Riders on the Storm
by Ripley
Summary: War and love, the heart and the battlefield. SeeD will have to face all in order to triumph. A tale of revenge, intrigue, and courage under fire. Seifer Quistis.
1. Before

Disclaimers: I own every single one of these characters. Yeah, that's right. They and the settings are all part of my ingenious creation. I am the queen. Eat that Squaresoft! How do you like them apples?

Author's Notes: Here is the beginning of my much agonized over possible prequel to "Get Off My Cloud". I'm essentially using this as a personal forum for my wild theories, emotional wranglings, and political frustrations. So here it is, the full and final explanation of the FFVIII world as I see it. Its battles and tragedies, loves and friendships, lives and deaths. The story opens approximately five months after the game; I will lead you through any time changes as they occur, hopefully with as little turmoil as possible. Though it may not appear so for a while, it is also a romance. The interludes may appear sporadic and random but I assure you there will be some sort of fluffiness by the end, just not of the variety you may be expecting. Thanks a million!

"For years I have endeavoured to calm an impetuous tide – labouring to make my feelings take an orderly course – it was striving against the stream" ~ Mary Wollstonecraft

Riders on the Storm 

Into this house we're born   
Into this world we're thrown   
Like a dog without a bone   
An actor out alone   
Riders on the storm (The Doors)

Before
    
    _So many fears will haunt you_
    
    _Deny them or regret_
    
    _Some men will make you want to _
    
    _and you will not forget_
    
    _Coincidence and patience _
    
    _will mend this fatal flaw_
    
    _Though it may seem a long wait _
    
    _others have been here before _(Pet Shop Boys)

"In conclusion, the matter requires further research. The previous analyses published on Guardian Forces are minimal and insufficient. In order to fully understand the capabilities and consequences, many of which are untapped and unknown, more effort must be devoted to exploration and experimentation. The little information we have does not satisfy demand, nor does it prepare us for the future." 

Quistis Trepe finished her presentation with this final point and looked out across the lecture theatre to meet the eyes of the one sympathetic executive member in the room. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly when he tapped his hands together in silent applause. At least she had some support on the committee, miniscule as it may be. The rest was an accumulation of impassivity. She wondered if they had even listened to a word she'd said in the past half-hour. So much for an objective forum.

Her hands rested lightly on the lectern in front of her and she took a deep breath. Here we go, she told herself, the moment of truth has arrived. The work she had dedicated several months of her life to toiling over would now either be accepted or thrown back in her face. It was out of her hands now. Her future depended on their next statement.

When no one spoke, she stepped back from the lectern and flicked off the glaring yellow overhead. Someone near the back of the hall flipped a switch and the room immediately brightened. Quistis blinked, taking a moment for her eyes to adjust to the flooding light. Before she could begin to gather her materials into a sleek briefcase a throat cleared from the middle of the room, breaking through the silence with its harsh quality. She glanced up.

There were only eight current members of Balamb Garden's Executive Council. This was not nearly enough to fill the theatre normally reserved for large conferences and mass lectures by guest instructors. Nevertheless, the sight of rows upon rows of seats in front of her, with the scrutinizing face of Head Instructor Aki front and centre, was daunting. It was a good thing she was finished with being intimidated by her superiors or she never would have made it through the thirty-minute seminar. It was also a good thing she had put on her lucky underwear this morning.

"I have a question for you, Ms. Trepe." Aki's voice glided through the air pleasantly, patronizingly. With determination and fortitude she met his gleaming gaze. "On page twenty-six you mention physical evidence to prove your thesis and conclude on page twenty-eight that further experimentation is required. Does this mean your theory has yet to be proven in real-life scenarios?"

Fortunately, she had anticipated such an enquiry and was prepared with a decisive response. "Testing has only been performed in controlled settings, by myself and several others." She lifted her chin, proud of the clarity in her tone. "Which is why I have brought the matter forward today. I believe, based on my limited results, that Guardian Forces provide transferable abilities within them. With further scientific examination we could better understand how to use these abilities to our advantage without resorting to the dangerous and murky tactics of junctioning. In order to enact my results in real-life scenarios, as you put it, I would need Garden's support."

"Are you questioning the evidence of previously published experiments performed by scientific experts in the field, Ms. Trepe?" Aki inclined his head toward her and raised both slim dark eyebrows. "Dr. Odine's _Analysis and Ethics _provides conclusive proof that the junctioning of Guardian Forces, as Balamb has fostered for over a decade I might add, is neither as dangerous as you have attested nor is it reckless. Are you doubting the authority of several decades of work, along with the practical experience of Garden itself?"

Quistis observed the flickers of doubt that passed over the expressions of the other council members. She had to stop herself from immediately jumping on the defensive. To do so would only sound weak and incite additional probes from the elder SeeD. It was best to keep it simple, concise. One made more of an impact that way. 

Here goes.

"Yes."

Less than twenty minutes later the council members had vacated the hall. She waited until the last echoes of their footsteps died away before putting a hand to her forehead and letting her shoulders droop. She sighed. Long and deep, it eased some of the tension in her lower back. Her head began to pound but her heartbeat slowed. Well, it had not been a complete and total disaster. The Commander of Special Operations had appeared interested for the first five minutes. Or maybe he had just been attracted to the free donuts.

"Congratulations, Quistis."

The sound of the voice made her jump. She dropped her hand and looked up, eyes wary. "For what? Stuttering like a fool while my carefully-compiled months' worth of labour was torn apart by ravenous blood souls?" With a self-deprecating laugh she turned to pick up her briefcase.

Squall Leonhart lifted a brow and crossed his arms. "It wasn't that bad. You brought up some good points." He shifted to lean a hip against the table where she stood as she began collecting her materials into organized piles. "Gave us something to think about." She snorted at that but didn't look up. He continued to watch her for a few moments. "It was impressive, the way you stood up to Aki.  The guy's a prick."

At that Quistis let out a genuine chuckle. "That he is." She shook her head. "He's always disliked me, ever since I was made an instructor two years ago. I think he was the main power behind my dismissal." She stood in contemplation before glancing over at Squall. Her eyebrows lifted and nose wrinkled. "I guess in a way one could say he is my nemesis."

"Nah," Squall shook his head and stepped aside to allow her to approach the door ahead of him. He spoke without thinking. "Aki may have tenure but you're too strong to let him bring you down."

"Why Squall," Quistis spoke with a hint of amusement. She slanted a look at him from the corner of her eye as they fell into step together in the hallway. Still the same man on the outside, she mused. But the inside was altering little by little. As his former instructor she was grateful to witness the change, as his friend, she was thrilled to be a part of it.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." A teasing grin curved the contours of her face upward. "Maybe I should write it down. Squall Leonhart compliments Quistis Trepe, February eighteenth, year one…" Her words broke off at his murderous glare and she began to laugh instead. She was forced to pick up her pace as she dodged around passing cadets, waving and nodding at familiar faces.

Irritated by her smirk Squall turned away and came to a stop by the button on the wall for the lift. More than anything, he hated to be teased. This is what I get for trying to be nice, he thought. His scowl deepened. "Whatever."

Quistis' amusement only heightened at this last remark but she was able to withhold her laughter. The more things change…

However, it was not her goal to incense him further. Not today anyway. She needed him on her side. When the doors slid open with an almost imperceptible turning of gears she gestured for him to enter ahead. Her smile was brilliant. "Going up?"

The central office was unusually quiet when they departed the lift at the top floor. There were no students waiting in reception to see the Headmaster, no sound of telephones clamouring to be answered. It was eerie. Ever since the end of the war Balamb Garden had been inundated with reporters, military leaders, prospective cadets, former SeeD, and threatening parents. To see it so calm was a welcome sight, to say the least, but an odd one. Perhaps, finally, the matter had been put to rest. Maybe now, after five months, the world could start anew and things could return to normal. Well, as normal as they could be in an academy that trained deadly mercenaries.

With a light frown, Quistis glanced around the front room. No papers left on the desk, computer monitor blank, and terminal silent. Everything was put in its place care of Balamb Garden's super-efficient administrative assistant. A rank-A SeeD that should have been at the desk waiting for her so they could go for lunch. Her stomach rumbled as the thought of food echoed in her head. She hadn't bothered to eat that morning. Figured her nerves would only cause whatever it was to come right back up. But now she was starving.

Squall did not bother to hesitate in the front room. Grateful for the lack of bedlam that typically accompanied his visits to the administrative headquarters he continued to walk past the gleaming desk and through the light wooden door. Straight into the realm of the Headmaster himself.

Despite the recent influx of resources that had flowed into the Garden coffers as of late, providing much needed developments to Balamb's administration, the inner office had changed little from its former design. The desk was just as bulky, the surface just as cluttered with reports and technological devices. There was still the dying fern taking up residence in the corner, as desperate for refreshment as ever. And the overhead light was still missing one bulb.

It was these imperfections that lent the room its humanistic atmosphere. Took away some of the coldness by showing that real people worked there. Though the files bursting out of the metal cabinets contained confidential military intelligence the office itself appeared as if it could be located in any city or home. Upon entering the first time no one would ever suppose it was a court of power.

A court that was currently missing its king. Squall stopped short. It is a good thing Quistis had such well-trained reflexes or she would have crashed right into him.

Where is he? Squall's dark brows lowered as he continued all the way into the room. Mid-day light blazed from the large glass windows behind the desk and highlighted the dust clouds that floated up from thick carpeting. He crossed his arms and swivelled to look at Quistis. She stood in the doorway with one eyebrow lifted in question.

"Where is Cid?" He spoke his thoughts aloud, not without a touch of annoyance.

She shrugged one shoulder and took in the office with one sweep of her eyes. "No idea. I was supposed to meet Xu here as well."

He stood in one spot, processing the information slowly. Along with being teased Squall also hated to be kept waiting. Definitely near the top of his long list of pet peeves. It is not that he was impatient. He considered fortitude to be one of his best traits. As long as it was one his own terms.

Fortunately, he wasn't forced to wait long. The ring of the lift halting just outside the door followed by the resonance of heated voices alerted them to the presence of their chief. Intrigued, Quistis turned from the office to face the approaching executives. Squall was only one step behind her.

Xu's normally composed features were marred with a frown. Her hands gesticulated violently as she spoke to the older man next to her in excited tones. "What a total waste of time." Her words came out harsh, tinged with scorn. "One doesn't compromise with that man, she ordains. Complete irrational bastard." Her face contorted with disgust.

Since he was inclined to agree Cid Kramer nodded and sighed. He lifted a hand to adjust his solid-framed glasses before nodding again at his associate's frustrated cursing. The emergency meeting with Galbadia Garden's new headmaster had been essentially fruitless. As Xu had bluntly stated, the man's demands were irrational and irreversibly unfeasible. The one item that had been decided on during the past four hours was the one thing he knew would get most people's backs up. Xu at the top of the list.

"So does this mean I'm eating alone today?" Quistis' bemused voice rose over the other woman's vehement ranting like a concerto piano over a discordant orchestra.

Bid and Xu automatically pivoted their heads in unison. Quistis barely managed to hide a smile.

With a sheepish shrug, Cid tucked his hands into the pockets of his brown trousers. He glanced over to address the commander. "Squall! Just the fellow I've been looking for. I, ah, apologize for keeping you waiting." Clearing his throat he eyed the woman next to him wearily. "Would you care to fill him in?"

All at once Xu's grin was broad. Her dark eyes gleamed with mischief as an idea took shape in her head. "Actually, I have a better idea."

In a few brusque strides she was at her immaculate desk. The others stood in silent observation has she opened the bottom drawer and flipped through the various files neatly organized inside. Coming across the appropriate one she pulled it out with a satisfying yank then spun around to wave it in front of Quistis' face.

"Here, Quistis, look what the mission fairy brought you!" Nimble fingers released the folder giving the startled woman no choice but to catch it before it fell to the floor. Revenge, Xu thought, was better than sweet. It was bliss.

Quistis recovered from her momentary surprise and looked down at the unmarked black folder, then back up at Xu. Suspicious, she raised both eyebrows, shooting a glance toward Cid. She had known the other woman long enough not to trust her in this mood. Bad things tended to happen otherwise.

"I don't think so. I've got enough on my mind right now. Remember my dissertation? I can't do anything before I hear back from the Committee."

"It'll just be a short one," Xu promised. The satisfied smirk on her lips poke different. "Two, three hours tops. You don't even need to junction." She tucked back an errant strand of hair and pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. "You'll need something to keep you occupied while you wait, anyway. And I can guarantee you, this one is very distracting."

Not about to believe her without a second opinion Quistis once again turned to Cid for aid. Unfortunately the uneasy man simply rocked back on his heels and did his best to avoid her eyes. She could feel Squall's gaze at the back of her neck, awaiting her next decision. Pensive, she tapped the folder with one finger.

"What is it about?" She was nowhere near resigned.

"Oh, you will love it!" Xu folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the edge of the desk. "Just the kind of cause you're interested in."

"Which is?"

"Weeell," she made sure to draw out every syllable to prolong her own personal enjoyment. This is what you get, she told Quistis with her thoughts, for setting me up on a blind date with that conceited oaf who thinks a lecture on SeeD regulation changes makes for a thrilling evening. "It entails taking a Garden rig out to the D-District Prison and collecting an inmate. Normally we'd just fly Garden out there but we're stuck making deliberations in Timber for another week and this has to be taken care of right away."

"That's it?" Quistis had a terrible feeling about this. It was too simple. And the headmaster still refused to look at her. She pursed her lips. "Who is the inmate?"

If possible, Xu's grin widened ever more with the question. "Someone you know quite well, actually. So you shouldn't have any problems in that respect. You will have to read over the documents for a more recent report but I doubt there will be anything too surprising."

"Xu."

She straightened her slim frame and squared her shoulders. She was going to relish every word of her next statement. "At ten hundred tomorrow morning you will be picking up Seifer Almasy."

Over the next few seconds Quistis' expression went through a variety of emotions. The central one being disbelief. No way. There was absolutely no way Galbadia would release him so soon. Was this some kind of joke? 

The look on Cid's face when he finally made eye contact, however, confirmed Xu's words. Damn, damn, damn. So much for her lucky underwear. 


	2. Mad Season

"It is almost always the vanquished who are put on trial for war crimes, almost never the victors." ~ Paul Viminitz

Mad Season 

**_I feel stupid - but I think I been catchin' on  
I feel ugly - but I know I still turn you on  
you seem colder now, torn apart, angry, turned around  
will that whole mad season knock you down_**  
_Now I'm cryin' - isn't that what you want  
I'm tryin' to live my life on my own  
but I won't  
at times - I do believe I am strong  
so someone tell me why, why, why  
do I feel stupid  
and I came undone _(Matchbox Twenty)

 Negotiations in Timber were not going well. Galbadia wasn't budging an inch. The defeated state was determined to hang on to the last shred of its empire to the bitter end, if it came to that. The SeeDs stationed at the international conference were beginning to think it just might. 

Esthar was impatient but equally stubborn. The formerly isolated state was now fully prepared to take over from where Galbadia left off, as the powerhouse of the global community. A type of _Pax Etharia, _if you will. And it was resolved to begin with the liberation of Timber. No matter how long it may take, no matter what force had to be used. It was clear deliberations would not end in the small southern region.

 However, the atmosphere in Timber had lightened little since the war. Tensions had increased further due to the peace talks and the population was restive. A dangerous phenomenon in an already radical city. Citizens of the occupied region would not wait for long. The number of anti-government factions had doubled over the past five months and mass propaganda was circling throughout the public despite attempts at appeasement. They wanted change now. Galbadia was weak; the military regime faltering .The time had come to take back their rights of self-determination. Everyone knew revolution was coming. It was only a case of when and how.

Careful to keep his strides swift and assertive the man dressed in the Galbadian uniform approached the Timber Hotel. Security was rigid around the city, all gates heavily guarded due to the presence of international officials. With the chaos that was global politics slip-ups could not be afforded. The hotel was even more heavily barricaded. Since tourism had been shut down only governmental executives and members of the military were allowed free access.

He saluted crisply to the men garrisoning the double glass doors before making his way into the lobby, helmet firmly in place. He did not bother to glance at any of the soldiers, political aides, or reporters sprinkled about the small area, glancing at the model trains, sipping coffee and murmuring quietly amongst themselves. As he approached the metal doors of the lift and pulled the old-fashioned chord to call the car to the ground floor he caught snippets of conversation. 

"What a boring afternoon," one woman outfitted in a sharp blue suit with matching sling-back heels complained to her companion. "When I signed up with the television station I thought it would be more exciting. Y'know, breaking the latest disaster to a riveted audience. Instead I'm stuck in a lobby waiting to catch a glimpse of Esthar's foreign minister." She flipped a mass of blonde curls behind one shoulder. "I mean, who really cares? I can't even remember his name!"

Only a short while later the lift groaned to a halt on the third floor. The soldier stepped from the tiny car and onto the worn, boldly decorated carpet. His boots thudded in a common beat as he followed the brass-plated signs that directed toward the presidential suites and breakout rooms.

His breathing intensified, billowing against the dark screen of his helmet. Beads of perspiration formed at his hairline and he had to resist the urge to scratch his neck where the wool of the uniform rubbed against sensitive skin. He rested a gloved hand against his chest, surprised to feel the pounding of his heart through all the layers of material and wiring. His pulse beat in a similar cadence at the curve of his throat. It would all be over soon. 

At the door he stopped, took a moment to collect his thoughts. Less than two minutes now, he was sure. Just two minutes. He slowed his breathing and put a hand on the knob. The pounding of his heart was even louder now, echoed through his head like the backbeat of a rock song. When his wrist turned and the bolt of the handle released with a shattering click the rhythm deepened. The tempo sped up until all he could hear was the thumping of his heart. As the thick oak door opened a tinny buzzing joined in, clanging through his eardrums. Still, he continued into the room. There was no going back now, even if he wanted to. He'd left his failsafe behind at the hotel entrance.

Maia looked up from the scattered files when the door opened, frowned at the interruption. This was a private meeting between SeeD and Galbadian representatives. No one else was supposed to be informed of it, including soldiers. The female SeeD in charge of the mission glared at her fellow delegates.

"I thought we had agreed upon no armed forces." She spoke to the head Galbadian official with accusation. "This is a strictly confidential meeting." Two others dressed in full Balamb Garden regalia sat next to her at the narrow table across from three members of Galbadia Garden. The former also appeared annoyed.

Before the Galbadians could defend themselves the man closed the door behind him and stepped toward the table without speaking. He could not find his voice; his throat felt like it was filled with cotton balls. With fingers shaking he lowered his left hand toward his holster.

Maia caught sight of his actions and shot out of her chair. Obviously she had been mistaken when she'd trusted the other Garden members. Too late for regrets now. The thoughts flitted through her mind as she reached for her own weapon, colleagues following suit. 

A slightly freckled nose wrinkled when all the soldier did was pull out a remote. Her hand hesitated on the trigger of the revolver for the briefest of moments. That split second cost Maia her life.

Before he closed his eyes, the man watched as the female's wide brown eyes flickered in acknowledgement of what he was about to do. She parted her lips to cry out but her scream was lost in the timbre of the explosion. The reverberations throbbed through the core of the city for several ear-splitting seconds before fading out. And then…silence.

Filled with nervous energy Quistis tapped her hands against the steering wheel of the Garden MRV in a patternless beat. She waited impatiently in the car while the Galbadian soldier manning the checkpoint scrutinized her credentials. More like memorized, she thought. It was certainly taking him longer than necessary to verify her identity. Not in a mood to be trifled with, she leaned her head out the open window and observed the man over the wire frames of her glasses. It was a look she had perfected during her brief stint as an instructor, and one that most found intimidating. The soldier did not appear to be a member of that class.

"Do you need to see my first grade report card as well?" Her tone was exasperated, more than a little sarcastic. Perhaps if she had been more polite to the sentinel from the start she would not have been in this position. But, quite frankly, this was the last place she wanted to be right now. In fact, it was the last place she would want to be ever. And damn them all if they expected her to pretend otherwise.

Unimpressed, the guard glowered down at her. He was not in the mood to deal with uptight, sanctimonious Garden snobs. He was sick to death of their haughty attitudes and "you have to do as I say" mentalities. He was tired of dealing with orders from the so-called officers half his age that thought they knew everything. Essentially, he was just sick to death of his job. It had been a foul day and it was only ten in the morning. 

Deciding to save them both from further killing each other with evil glares he handed Quistis back her identification with a dour nod. She snatched it out of his large hand and carelssly chucked it on the dashboard of the car.

"Thanks." It came out as an impolite grumble. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could return to Garden and a nice hot bubble bath. Freesia, she decided as she put her foot to the accelerator and roared the vehicle through the barely opened gate. She had definitely earned it. And scented candles.

Despite the mid-winter month the air was humid, clogging her senses as she pulled into the parking lot. The climate on Balamb was typically warm. But the proximity of the ocean allowed a breeze to flow through that thinned the air and cooled the temperature. The desert surrounding the prison offered no such comfort. With regret she turned off the ignition and, consequently, the air conditioning. Ten minutes, she promised herself, swinging her legs out of the car and onto black concrete. It couldn't possibly take any longer than that.

Exactly fifty-three minutes later she sat in un-air-conditioned discomfort in the office of the prison warden. She was grateful to finally be filling out the last of the forms the helpful man had thrust at her. That is, after he spent the first fourteen of those minutes drilling her on procedure. As if she was some greenhorn who had no idea what a prison was. If she was told one more time, "we do things different in Galbadia than you're accustomed to over in liberal Balamb, we have laws to obey," she was going to rip her sweat-drenched hair out. 

God, it was hot in there. If it weren't for Garden procedure she would have discarded her uniform jacket long ago. How did these men stand it? 

The door opened abruptly and the long, craggy face of the warden peered through. "You all finished in here, ma'am? The prisoner has been collected."

That was another thing she could not comprehend. Though a hard-line blazing redneck the warden had treated her with nothing but respect and consideration. Odd for someone who had told her he thought Galbadia should burn the bastard at the stake for what he did. Quistis supposed it was to be expected, however. After all, Almasy had done his own burning in that very building.

"Yes, I'm done." She rose from the metal-rung chair and winced. That hurt. Maybe one of Dr. Kadowaki's massages was in order as well.

"Thank you." The bulky man accepted the sheaf of papers and shoved it into a pile on the already covered desk. Quistis had been forced to shift some things around her self in order to clear a space to write. "This way." He directed down the hall with a callused thumb then turned back out the door.

She followed closely behind him, adjusting the material of the skirt that insisted on sticking to her legs. Her eyes stayed on the back of his thinning grey hair, pleased to note that the back of his neck also glistened with sweat. At least she was not the only one suffering.

He led her back around to the front administration desk. Quistis squared her shoulders and prepared for the worst. No eye contact, she told herself. Just thank the warden and lead him to the car. Don't say a word. You can handle this.

She repeated it like a mantra as she neared the main entrance where two male figures stood in wait. The warden scratched the side of his face and stopped. He shifted to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. 

"Well, there he is, ma'am. All yours." The expression on his face clearly said that he doubted she could manage such a fierce war criminal. 

She nodded then forced a polite smile to her face that plainly said she could handle all that and more. "Thank you for your cooperation." Her jaw tightened and she glanced over at the other two men. Remember Quistis, not one word.

Then her eyes fell on the man she had been doing her best not to think about. The one man who had the power to undermine all she had worked for since the war. Their eyes met, locked, and everything she had told the warden through her gaze faded into oblivion. She be screwed.

He didn't look defeated, was all she could think. His broad shoulders should to be hunched, his head should be bowed, and his eyes should be staring at his feet. He was a beaten man and he was supposed to act that way. But Seifer Almasy was doing none of those things. Except for the handcuffs manacling his wrists he hardly looked like a prisoner of war at all. 

His gaze was direct and alert, but cool. His shoulders were straight and his posture tall. Perhaps his hair had grown a bit longer since Quistis had last laid eyes on him but it definitely was not the dishevelled mess she had expected. He looked just as powerful as before, just as ready to take on the world. With that same belligerent jaw and damn-it-all chin. 

If anything his pride seemed to have gone up a notch. She had not been prepared for this and found her self fumbling in her next course of action.

Later, she would tell herself she should have anticipated such a reception. The great Almasy arrogance would never allow the man to radiate anything less than total control. Seifer was nothing if not unpredictable. Which was one of the reasons they never got along.

Seifer observed his liberator warily. He was not surprised Garden had sent Quistis Trepe to retrieve him. But then, very little did surprise him these days. He had not even lifted a brow earlier that morning when he was informed of his release into Balamb's custody. He was not sure how he felt about that yet, for that matter. But it wasn't up to him.

Quistis' expression amused him if nothing else. He watched as she regained composure and loosened the fingers that had clenched into tight fists. She had not changed much as far as he could tell. Her eyes were still glazed with icy composure and her head still tilted at a slight angle when she thought hard on a problem. He had no doubt as to what her thoughts pertained to now. But he could only guess as to her feelings toward them. He didn't really give a rat's ass, anyway. He just wanted to be out of there.

With a light shake of her head Quistis addressed the armed guard that gripped Seifer's arm. "You can remove those now. I'll be taking over from here." A slender arm gestured in the direction of the handcuffs.

The guard looked dubious. His eyes shifted about the room uneasily, and he bit at the inside of his cheek. "Are you sure, miss? We can't say for sure what he's capable of."

Seifer nearly snorted. Oh yeah, that was it. As soon as the bindings were off he was going to go on a murderous rampage, eviscerating them all with his invisible weapon. Better watch out, air is deadly.

Quistis seemed to be of similar opinion. "I'm positive." She raised a brow. "Now please, so we can all get out of here." The last was said with an edge of impatience. The heat was getting to her. She needed to get back to the car before she turned into a puddle on the cemented floor. Screw the bath. She was in desperate need of a refreshing cold shower.

When at last his wrists were freed Seifer simply turned and followed Quistis out the doors, chin raised with pride. He had never felt anything more incredible than that hot, thick desert air rushing to meet his upturned face. Freedom. As long as he lived he would never take it for granted again. 

Just for that he figured he owed Quistis the courtesy of obedience as she led him to the MRV and unlocked the passenger door. In truth he was a little surprised she was allowing him to sit up front in the first place. Usually criminals were designated to the cargo hold.

Neither said a word as she climbed up into the driver's seat and started up the vehicle. The silence continued when she drove back through the armoured gates, past the guard station and onto the main stretch of roadway. Thank God that was over, they both thought simultaneously.

Seifer permitted himself to relax now that they were speeding away from the hell that was D-District prison. Never again, he vowed to himself, never again would he let himself be caged like an animal. A day in that place was enough to deter even the most dedicated criminals. He was eternally grateful Balamb's laws were much more lenient than Galbadia's.

Quistis' fingers gradually released their white-knuckled hold on the steering wheel. If all went well she would be back in her room within the next hour and a half, providing she didn't pay too close attention to the speed limits. She reached out a hand to turn up the air-conditioning, appreciating the jolt of cold air on her heated skin. 

As her shoulders eased into the soft material of the seat she flicked a glace at her companion from the corner of her eye. She wondered what he was feeling right now. Relief, gratitude, guilt? His features were impassive as he stared out the windshield, impossible to read. But then, she had never been able to understand what made Seifer Almasy tick. The main reason she had failed him as an instructor.

Once the prison had vanished a few miles behind him, along with his terrible memories, Seifer began to think more on his current situation. He had no clue what lay a wait for him in Garden. He did not expect a joyful greeting. And why should he? The good guys always won, right? He had lost. So what did that make him?

He was fully aware the only reason Garden was even taking him back was to prevent a lynch mob from breaking out in Balamb City. According to international law, as a prisoner of war captured by Galbadia he had been required for release once negotiations were settled. However, as a war criminal he should be tried for his crimes. Since he was a resident of Balamb he would be sent there, much to Galbadia's dismay. Seifer assumed that there wasn't a state in existence that didn't want a piece of him, including the ever-neutral Trabia. Not too shabby, he thought sarcastically. His head on a metaphorical silver platter was the most desired dish throughout the world. He was a fucking international celebrity. Go team Almasy. If you're going to go down, you might as well go all the way.

"You hungry?" Given that those were the first two words Quistis had spoken to him the entire time it was only natural that he twisted his head to gape at her.

"Huh?"

Keeping her eyes on the road, Quistis allowed the corners of her mouth to curve. One for my side! "I asked if you were hungry. There's a town just up ahead that's home to the greasiest burger you've ever tasted. Superb."

Seifer shrugged, still looking at her somewhat perplexed. "I could eat."

"Good." She reckoned he would be ravenous after months of nothing but prison food. It was probably worse than the stuff they served in hospitals, or in Balamb's cafeteria.

Within a short time she was pulling into the car park of a fast-food restaurant. Quistis had stopped there several times before on previous missions and found it superior to most chains, if more fattening. She stepped from the car but was annoyed when Seifer didn't do the same. Releasing a frustrated breath of air from her lungs she strode around to the other side and yanked open his door for him.

"Let's go."

He moved his head slowly to look at her, both eyebrows raised. "I think I'll wait, thanks."

"Yeah right." Quistis crossed her arms and adopted a similar expression. "Get out." Did he seriously think she was about to leave him in there unattended?

Letting out a long sigh to show that he wasn't cooperating willingly, he obeyed. Leisurely unfolding his tall frame as if he had all the time in the world. He sensed her impatience ~ she was practically vibrating with it ~ and so took his time stretching out his limbs. Even tossed in a satisfying neck crack for good measure.

After watching his display with an irritated scowl she reached behind him to close the car door, nearly catching the hem of his lose shirt in the jam. When he jumped she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her into the diner.

Right away they attracted attention. It was a small town and visitors were rare. Tourism was not a thriving industry just outside a desert. Quistis doubted that the few civilians scattered about the plastic covered booth recognized them at all. Seifer may be an international criminal but the people of the small county were not the type to pay attention to the happenings of the world. As long as there were always crops to tend and bingo halls to visit they would be content. Her hand firm on Seifer's arm she advanced toward the red and white checked counter where an adolescent male stood pretending not to stare at them. She nodded to several patrons as she passed by, trying to appear casual.

More than anything Seifer wanted to be back in the car. His skin felt hot and his head throbbed. He knew the gawking people were probably harmless but that did not stop their gazes from getting to him. It was as if they were waiting for him to explode. He wanted to whip around and yell. "Yes! I did it! I helped the sorceress try to destroy the world! I am evil!" He rubbed his free hand over his face. By Hyne, he felt like it. Just to stop their sunburned faces and probing eyes from staring at him like some kind of time bomb. Screw them all. 

He clenched his jaw and half-listened as his captor calmly ordered two hamburgers and fries for take out, observed as the trembling boy smiled back at her. The youth continued to stare dumbly ahead as the change in his hand fell to the floor. Seifer snorted and rolled his eyes. Pathetic. Nevertheless, that didn't mean he wouldn't trade places with the blushing kid in a heartbeat. Had he ever been that innocent?

They managed to collect their food without further commotion and returned to the car. Before he could strap himself in Quistis lowered her hand from where she was about to insert the car key and dropped it in her lap. She shifted in her seat to examine him with narrowed eyes.

"Word is you were possessed."

If the situation had not been so serious Seifer would have grinned at her blunt remark. He wondered how long she had wanted to ask him just that. Knowing her it had probably been driving her crazy over the past several months. Quistis had an insatiable desire to know everything about everyone. However, she usually employed much more tact. It must be really bothering her. 

In a cavalier fashion he reached into the paper bag sat between them and pulled out a foil wrapped burger. The warm, appetizing odour of grease and ketchup drifted into the small cab of the vehicle. Unwrapping the foil he took a large, indulging bite and closed his eyes. Quistis had been telling the truth. It was pure heaven.

After taking a few more bites he eventually looked up to see that her gaze remained on him. He shrugged and gestured to the bag. "You gonna eat that?"

Tongue in cheek she put the key in the ignition and started the engine, eyes now focussed on the road. Propping one foot on his knee, Seifer smirked. One for him.


	3. Disciplined Breakdown

"Where there is no common power, there is no law; where no law, no injustice. Force and fraud are in war two cardinal virtues." ~ Thomas Hobbes, _Leviathan_.

**Disciplined Breakdown**

_I never ever can contribute   
To finding all the faults that sustain   
Never mind the answers   
To who spreads the cancer   
When the questioning of why remains   
I'd love to sit and rationalize   
But my tongue's become dry   
It seems I'm losing ground   
Welcome all to my disciplined breakdown _(Collective Soul)

There was something wrong with the engine. The tiny yellow light had been blinking at her for the past couple of miles. Mockingly, she thought. As if it were saying, "you thought this hell was almost over? Ha ha, gotcha!" 

Quistis glared back at the spiteful little warning sign. Even the car was against her.

Having no choice she checked for approaching vehicles in the rear-view mirror and flicked on the turning signal. As she steered the rig onto the soft shoulder she prayed it was nothing; that the light was just broken or that the problem was something so minor she could wait until they got to Timber to have it fixed. If not, she had a long wait ahead of her for Garden to send support.

Not bothering to glance at the man in the passenger seat she quickly unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door. There was little traffic at this time of day so she didn't have any difficulties dodging the few vehicles that did pass by on the one-lane highway.

After popping open the hood Quistis bent to inspect for possible problems. Her nose wrinkled as the pungent odour of motor oil and fluid drifted over her olfactory glands. She titled her head and creased the light skin of her brow as she scrutinized the mechanical jumble before her. 

All members of SeeD were trained in basic auto-mechanics in case of situations just like these. It was a necessary skill, along with methods of healing and avoiding status attacks. All were part of a SeeD's required knowledge. Essential for the various circumstances that may crop up. 

It was just too bad Quistis had been bed-ridden with the flu the week her class had gone in for practical training. She had been expected to make it up but there had been no opportunity. She'd known enough from textbooks to pass the written requirements so by the time the field exam had rolled around her instructors had forgotten all about it.

Hence why she stood in front of the MRV now with a baffled look on her face. 

There was some sticky crimson ooze coming out from beneath a belt and it looked like a few of the multi-coloured wires were tangled. But, she had no idea if this was how the bowels of a car were supposed to appear or not. 

Running a hand over the metal combustion engine she realized it was hot. Featherlike steam vapoured from the sides. When she pulled her hand back up she saw that her palm was coated in black. Nice. Were all engines expected to be this dirty?

Giving up, she lowered the hood. If only she could recall what she had quoted from the texts so brilliantly on the exam. It was too long ago. And this was the first time she had ever been unfortunate enough to get caught in such an awkward situation.

Letting out a tiny growl to express her dismay she turned and leaned back against the front fender. Her eyes drifted toward the forested area a few miles up ahead. They were so close. About a half-hour beyond the trees sat Garden and the comfort of her bedroom. Both lay patiently in wait for her return. It wasn't fair. 

She had a sudden childish urge to scream and stamp her feet. Too bad she was nineteen and her days of temper tantrums were over. She could use the release right about now. However, when the image of her best friend Xu attacked by a swarm of bite bugs popped unwittingly into her head it helped to quell some of her frustration. Oh yes, she would pay dearly for getting her involved in this.

That knowledge enabled her to concentrate on how to best handle the state of affairs at hand. She had several options. One ~ mosey over to the farmhouse she had passed a little while ago and see if they would let her use their phone to call Garden. Two ~ gather her vital supplies from the vehicle and walk the rest of the way. Three ~ wave down a passing civilian and see if they knew any more about engines than she did. 

The latter, while the most optimal for her feet, which were not encased in shoes prepared for hiking long distances, did not exactly correlate with Garden regulations. SeeD members were to avoid involving non-Garden persons in SeeD business at all times. Even in cases such as this. They were supposed to be trained to handle everything. 

Oops.

Whereas both the former two options involved waking up her travelling companion. Not a pleasant prospect in any sense of the term. 

After the few curt words they'd spoken in the diner car park the rest of the drive had continued in silence. For which Quistis was eternally grateful. She wasn't ready to talk to him any more than Seifer was to talk to her. He'd finished his meal with minimal complaint, angled back the seat, and closed his eyes to drift into easy slumber. 

She had been more than relieved, if not a little jealous at the casual way he had been able to relax under such palpable tension. Then again, the tension could be coming entirely from her side. At any rate, the last thing she wanted to do now was wake him up. To look in his eyes and experience the same flare-up of shame she received every time she thought of him. 

It was stupid, she knew. There was nothing she could have done to stop it. He had made his own choices. But she seemed to have a guilt complex the size of the Grand-Diddy whenever her former student was concerned.

Enough procrastinating, Trepe, she commanded her body. Hurry up and get over yourself already. There are more important things to worry about right now. 

Unenthusiastically, she reached for the metal handle and wrenched open the door. Leaving it open she hauled herself up onto the malleable seat.

Seifer was still asleep. Since his head was facing away from her all she could detect was his quiet, even breathing synchronized with the soft rise and fall of his chest. One leg was bent and pushed up against the side door while the other stretched long and lean out in front of him. For the first time since she had met him he appeared almost peaceful, comfortable in his moment of respite.

Startled with the sudden wave of sympathy that surged within her Quistis took a moment to observe the enigma that was Seifer Almasy. Lying there before her like that, with the seat tilted back, and clad in jeans and a worn sweatshirt, he could have been any nineteen-year-old male. Just by looking at him from this perspective one would never guess what he had endured. It was disconcerting. 

She shook her head and tucked back a wayward strand of hair that refused to stay behind the clip with the rest. 

It was useless to think of him that way. And dangerous. He wasn't a typical teenager. He was Seifer Almasy, traitor and rival of all Balamb Garden stood for. Beneath that youthful, relaxed exterior lounged a troubled man. All one had to do was look in his eyes to see a glimpse of the turmoil that was folded away inside. He was a man whose dreams were filled with terror and blood. Someone who had been granted all the opportunities in the world yet had turned them all away. A man she was positive she would never understand.

Loathe to wakening him Quistis coughed slightly, then rolled her eyes at the trepidation in her heart. What was the matter with her? There was nothing to fear from him any more. She was in control of the wheel now. She was his superior. He was a lowly criminal.

Fortunately she was saved from taking further action when his head lolled around on the backrest to confront hers. His eyes opened slowly. For a second they widened in surprise and he immediately moved to sit up. The artlessness of his expression did not last long, however, for he quickly took in his surroundings and the smooth lines of his face tightened. When his gaze met hers again, the windows to his thoughts were heavily guarded. No one was allowed in. Briefly she wondered if it would always be that way. If he would ever learn to trust.

Realizing she was staring Quistis leaned back in her seat and licked her dry lips. She cleared her throat once more before turning away. 

"There is something wrong with the engine," she informed him, pushing her hands up beneath her knees. "We are going to have to find a telephone to contact Garden."

Seifer adjusted his position so that both feet rested on the floor of the vehicle. His brow lowered in bewilderment. "What's the problem with it?"

Hating to admit any weaknesses she avoided his gaze and kept her own focussed on the windshield. "It's, ah, difficult to say. Could be a number of things." She waved a hand vaguely in front of her face. "Can't be fixed at the side of the road anyway." 

He sent her a strange look, obviously unimpressed by her noncommittal response, and reached for the door handle that sat just above his knee. Seifer didn't know what had come over her but he wasn't about to just sit there and take her word for it. With a grumble of discontent he popped open the door and slid onto the gravel outside. 

If there was one thing he had excelled in as a student of Balamb it was his mechanical training. It had meant a full week away from the stifling classrooms and rows of computer terminals. He had jumped at the chance to actually do something, not just study it in a textbook. 

When he had the hood lifted he indulged in a litany of curses. Not all remained merely in his thoughts. When was the last time this vehicle had been looked at? He was amazed it had made it this far with such old wiring. It was unlikely the oil had been changed at all in the last decade. 

They weren't going anywhere.

Quistis worried the inside of her cheek with her teeth as she stood next to him in front of the rig. From the way his features were twisted she doubted the situation would have an agreeable outcome. He turned to look at her, sneer in place.

"How long was the engine light on?" His tone was incredulous, patronizing.

She instantly leaped to defensive mode. He had always known just how to make her feel callow. "I don't know. The car was running fine. As soon as I noticed it I pulled over." Her eyes narrowed and she stiffly folded her arms. 

"Is there something wrong?"

The look he gave her made her feel like she was ten-years-old again. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and gestured with one hand toward the mess that was. 

"Can't you see it for yourself? There's engine fluid and oil everywhere. If you were to drive this any further the entire thing could overheat and explode!" In that moment his head jerked back and he swivelled to appraise her with curiosity. "Why do you need me to tell you this?" 

The answer promptly dawned on him when she shifted her stance in the fine stones of the road and straightened her shoulders. A barely withheld grin teased about the corners of his mouth and his eyes lightened unexpectedly with enjoyment. He eased himself against the fender of the car and crossed his arms. Cocking his head he regarded her with keen amusement. 

"You had no idea, did you?"

Freshly annoyed, she shoved around him to close the hood with a gratifying slam. "Be quiet, Almasy. Get your stuff." 

It was useless, she knew, to allow him to rile her up but she couldn't help it. There was something about his smirk that begged her to sweep it off. Violently.

Still chuckling he moved away from the vehicle and stepped closer to the side of the road. "I can't believe there's actually something in this world the Almighty Instructor Trepe knows nothing about." He rolled his neck back around to shoot her a condescending glance. "And you call yourself a SeeD."

Quistis clenched her fists and did her best to control her breathing. In and out. Se concentrated on slowly filling her lungs and exhaling. When she felt the murderous impulse subside she relaxed and returned to normal breathing patterns. 

After accumulating her bag from inside the car she closed and locked the door. She slid the keys into a concealed pocket before returning her attention to her charge. 

Seifer stood next to the paved highway, his face turned toward approaching vehicles. When a large pick-up truck drew near he stuck out an arm in an age-old signal. The driver, however, paid no heed and roared past, forcing Seifer to take a step back.

Quistis frowned. What the heck did he think he was doing? Under no circumstances were they hitchhiking to Timber. The idea was absurd. Not to mention a direct violation of Operation No. six point three. Disproving scowl in place she slid the carryall over her head so that it rested securely across her chest and against her hip. With gravel crunching beneath her modest heels she walked up to him.

"Ah, what exactly are you trying to pull, Almasy?" She was pleased with the authoritative timbre of her voice. Exactly how a woman in her position should sound.

"I'm not trying to "pull" anything." He lowered his arm once more when another vehicle, this time a jeep, raced by without stopping. He didn't bother to spare her a glance. "What I am doing, _Trepe_, is getting us off this damn highway." Now he did look at her. His gaze held derision. "Or would you prefer to hang out in the canyon?"

"Of course not. But we can not hitch a ride." If nothing else she would remain firm on that. 

"Why?"

She lifted a brow though was not truly surprised at his audacity. Seifer had never respected her. She suffered from no illusion that he would start to now. 

"Because it's against Garden policy. Although, I shouldn't have to inform you of that. If you ever want to make SeeD you are going to have to learn to follow orders without question."

At that he gave a purely Almasy-type shrug and turned away. 

"Who says I want to make SeeD? Did it ever occur to you that I might have better things to do than towing the Garden line?"

In all actuality it hadn't. To her, life was Garden. She had no idea what she would do if SeeD suddenly became unavailable. The very possibility was staggering. Lost in these troubled thoughts Quistis didn't notice that Seifer had managed to call over a rusted blue lorry until the driver had pulled up a few feet down the road. 

"Seifer!" She hissed and snatched at his sleeve. "We are not getting in that truck!" She ground her foot into the stones for good measure. His eyes slid from her irritated expression down to her footwear then back up.

"How far do you think you'll make it in those shoes? I'll end up carrying you all the way there."

The mere humiliation of the notion had her jaw dropping and eyes flashing. "You would not!"

He rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. Look, I don't see that we have any other options. Don't be such a snob, Instructor. You can always have your perfect uniform dry cleaned if you're worried that he has fleas." Seifer added insult to injury.

"I'm not a snob!" Even though she knew he was baiting her, Quistis refused to let him win this round. Her jaw tightened and her fingers shifted to grip his forearm. 

"You want to ride in the truck? Fine." Ignoring his mocking smirk she marched toward the waiting vehicle. The back was filled with sacks of what smelled like fertilizer. How quaint. It took all her control to stop her nose from wrinkling.

"But would you quit calling me instructor? It's demeaning." She sent a dazzling smile to the forty-ish man that sat behind the wheel, did her best to ignore the three blackened teeth that were revealed by his answering grin.

"Oh, excuse me, duchess." Seifer snapped open the door for her and bowed sarcastically. "From now on I will address you as what is proper for someone of your esteemed status."

Quistis hefted a foot onto the step of the tall cab before turning her smile on her companion. Only now it was haughty and her voice carried a lofty air. 

"I will expect nothing less."

Xu ceased racing proficient fingers across the keyboard of her personal computer when she caught sight of movement from the corner of her left eye. Slim dark eyebrows lifted in exasperation. Her lips curved upward and she shook her head.

"Selphie Tilmitt, stop lurking around the door! The commander is having a private conversation."

Startled, the young woman looked over; her eyes widened in an attempt at total virtuousness. "Lurking? Me? Never! I am shocked and appalled at your insinuation that I could be eavesdropping on the commander's personal time. Horrified that you would think I was capable of such a heinous act. I am simply, um, stretching my legs!" To prove it she grabbed one at the ankle and bent it back behind her. 

"See?" Selphie repeated the action with her other leg. "I have a serious medical condition. If I don't do this at least, er, fourteen times a day I may never be able to walk again!" With that she allowed her leg to drop and faced Xu with a solemn expression on her youthful face. "It's quite awful, really. You understand, don't you?"

The other woman leaned back on her desk chair and crossed her arms. At her stern frown Selphie tried to up the ante with a sweet smile. Xu let out a sigh.

"I don't believe you, Tilmitt." 

Selphie lowered her eyes to the floor and linked her arms behind her back, prepared for a lecture. Her expression was sheepish. 

"Would you believe I was, um, examining the new paint job on the walls?"

"After all this time have I taught you nothing? That door is a mix of wood and concrete. Terrible acoustics." Xu slanted forward across her desk to flip the intercom button to on. But before she did she flashed the younger girl a wicked grin, dark eyes sparkling. "If you want to get your facts straight you've got to use modern technology."

Their gazes locked and Selphie grinned back. "Duh! What was I thinking?"

She hurried over to the desk and closed her mouth so as not to make a peep when Xu pushed the catch. Her ears pricked up when a soft soprano glided through the small speaker.

The voice belonged to one Rinoa Heartily, the current subject of Selphie's insatiable curiosity.

"When will Garden be returning to Timber?" she was asking. The inflection on the question rang of hope. "By next week?"

Inside the office Squall stood awkwardly in front of the worn leather couch that his, well whom one could call his girlfriend, currently perched on. Her small frame looked lost in the deep, brown material and her large eyes gazed up at him in an almost childlike manner. She barely appeared a day over sixteen though her eighteenth birthday was quickly approaching.

"I don't know Rinoa, it's too early to say." He ran a hand through the tousled hair that fell over one eye. "After what happened today it could be a few months at best."

"A few months?" If possible her eyes seemed to widen even further. "But Squall, you promised the city would be liberated by then!"

Because he had never been able to withstand the power of her gaze, especially the pleading one she wore now, he shifted his eyes to a painting on the wall. It was of a sailboat. All blue and red and gold as it drifted in perfect bliss over the rolling waves of the sea. His eyes traced the tall line of the mast and wondered if that boat had ever been blown through more tempestuous waters.

"I know what I said." His voice was strained. "But we lost three SeeDs today. Garden cannot send anymore until the investigation into the bombing is complete. I'm sorry."

Rinoa rested back against the plush leather and wrapped her arms around her body. She focussed her attention on the back of his head. "But what about the citizens? They're all in danger too."

Squall allowed himself to indulge in a little sigh. His eyes were now trained on the solid black picture frame. "They are not Garden's responsibility. You know that, Rinoa."

A painful silence spread between them, building up the wall that she had worked with tooth and nail to tear down. Miserably she wondered if she had the strength to do it again. Her hands released her sides and one arm reached up to wind several locks of hair around her fingers. The other twisted in the chain at her throat.

"But they are my responsibility," she said in a small voice. Suddenly she sat up, slim shoulders thrust back. A stubborn look of courage passed over her delicate features. 

"I'm going to help them." Her tone was clear, strong. "If you'll fly me back I'll try to investigate it myself. Since I'm not a SeeD you won't be responsible for my actions, right?"

He swung around at that, brows lowered. She was relieved to see his expression was coloured with concern. Finally, some sort of emotion.

"No." How could she suggest such a thing? "We are too far out to alter course now. You will just have to be patient."

His words were hurtful but she knew they were not meant to be. She had seen that alarm in his eyes, had she not? She was desperate enough to grasp at anything.

"All right." Rinoa nodded and gave him a small smile to show she understood. "I'll just go contact Zone to let him know what's up."

When she started to rise, Squall took a step forward. He opened his mouth to speak but faltered when the right words did not come to him right away.

"Maybe that isn't such a good a idea."

Perplexed Rinoa scrunched up her face. "Why not? The Owls deserve to know what's going on." 

He shifted his weight from one hip to the other. "Garden business is strictly confidential."

She took a moment to take in his words. Realization draped over her and she leapt to her feet. Her typically pale cheeks were now blushed with vehemence. Hurt glinted off the shining of her irises.

"You think they are to blame for the bombing, don't you?" Rinoa stamped her foot on the dull carpeting in a tantrum. "How could you?"

He stared back at the raging female in front of him with impassivity. "I just don't think we should rule out any suspects yet."

"The Timber Owls are not suspects! Neither are any other freedom groups!" She wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg him to stop looking at her like that. As if all they had ever shared had meant nothing to him. Like she was no more than a wanton little girl daring to ask her lord for aid. "They are not some kind of terrorist faction." 

They are my friends, she wanted to tell him. The only people who have ever viewed me as an equal. The only ones who have ever made me feel that I belonged. How could he tear all that down?

Despising himself but convinced he was right, Squall bequeathed her with a patient, but doubtful curve of his brow. 

"Then what would you call what we did on the train?"

He watched as the fight went out of her lithe figure and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. He forced himself not to cringe as one slid unchecked down a glossy cheek. It was what he deserved. Why did she always seem to turn him into some kind of bastard? 

Ice in his veins. The words of a former instructor uttered so long ago resounded in his head with more force than ever. To this day he doubted said instructor was even aware he had been listening in the silent hall. He doubted the man even recalled articulating them. Squall would never forget. Not for the first time he questioned whether the words were false.

"You're wrong," she whispered, turning her head and hiding her face behind a screen of hair. "And I'll prove it to you. Somehow."

As he watched her run from the room he allowed his cover to fall. Ice in his veins; frost in his heart. If that were true why did he feel like someone had just punched him in the stomach? 

He listened as the shrill cry of Selphie called out for Rinoa to wait and spun on his heel when the candid gaze of Xu pierced through the open door. He couldn't meet her gaze. 

He had things to do.


	4. Mise En Scene

"Peace is not only better than war, but infinitely more arduous" ~ George Bernard Shaw

Mise en Scene 
    
    _Cities full of hatred, fear and lies_
    
    _Withered hearts and cruel, tormented eyes_
    
    _Scheming demons dressed in kingly guise_
    
    _Beating down the multitude and_
    
    _Scoffing at the wise_
    
    _Can't we raise our eyes and make a start?_
    
    _Can't we find the minds to lead us_
    
    _Closer to the heart?_ (Rush)

Laguna Loire, reigning President of the Esthar continent, gazed unseeing out the large window of his expansive office. He listened with half an ear as Esthar's elected Defence Minister voiced his concerns about the Timber incident. It wasn't that the symbolic ruler did not care about the events; more like he didn't know what he was expected to do about them. 

            This whole president gig had turned out to be a lot more complex than he had originally counted on. He had not meant it to be a permanent position in the first place. Just planned on staying a few years at most to help the citizens get back on track. Eighteen years later he still had his butt planted on the proverbial chair, and not without regrets.

            "Mr. President, this matter needs to be addressed with parliament without delay. Galbadia needs to be shown that it cannot get away with such flagrant ethical violations."

            That comment caught Laguna's meandering attention. His gaze swung from the tinted glass to the tall man stood in front of his desk. Waylon Murphy was not one of his favourite people. He could barely even call him an ally. The other man's abrupt manner had always intimidated him. Laguna doubted he even had a sense of humour. It was a wonder to him how the minister had been steadily elected in the past three campaigns without it.

            "Ethical violations?" the president echoed. Baffled, he reached up to scratch the back of his head. Several long strands of black hair slid out of his loose ponytail as he did so to fall in front of his eyes. 

"All I've heard recently is good reports. The elections are scheduled for next month with General Caraway's provisional government monitoring the campaigns." This time both hands lifted into the air in a helpless shrug. "Corruption is as low as it can get. Isn't it?"

 Murphy looked affronted. "All may appear that way but, with all do respect, sir, things are never as they seem." The large, broad-shouldered gentleman clasped his hands behind his back as he spoke. His voice remained gruff and his brow furrowed.

"Unfortunately the Galbadian situation cannot continue to exist as is much longer. Events are escalating far beyond our analysts' expectations. Our informants have uncovered evidence of possible conspiracies within the provisional government. Given that we can hardly trust Caraway's agents to properly inspect the electoral procedure." 

            Now Laguna's forehead was crinkled. "Are you sure? Galbadia has been nothing but cooperative during the past three conferences as far as I can see. Maybe the agents are wrong." 

            He sat back in his chair and rubbed at his chin. This was the first he had heard of anything amiss in the western state. The compromises, he'd been told, we going very well. Except for the Timber affair everything had been moving along smoothly. Yet now he wasn't sure what to believe.

            The defence minister cleared his throat. With a twist of his square-cut jaw he straightened his shoulders and faced the president directly.

            "Be that as it may I would not think it is a chance Esthar should be willing to make. In order to secure peace and our position in the world government every inch of the Galbadia regime must be scrutinized. Esthar cannot risk a toppling of the balance of power."

            Laguna fiddled with a freed thread on the arm of his leather chair. Not for the first time he felt way out of his league. His specialty was writing about events, not directing them. "What do you think we should do?"

            Waylon Murphy's clear green eyes gleamed. He unclasped his hands to slip them into the front pockets of his uniform jacket instead. Military strategy was where he excelled. It had been his profession for thirty years before he had entered the political sphere eleven years ago.

            "Increase the number of troops within the capital and at the borders. Send more intelligence teams to investigate the conspiracies, as well as look into the Timber bombing. Take over the supervision of the elections. Insure further diplomatic councils are held with the utmost security in mind."

            "Okay." Laguna nodded. That didn't sound so bad. Pretty reasonable as far as he could see. "Why don't you bring it up at the parliament sitting tomorrow? See what the prime minister thinks?"

            Murphy inclined his head. "Then I assume I can be sure of your support, sir? Forgive my candour but such matters need to be dealt with directly. Many of my fellow ministers are reluctant to become involved in global affairs and may provide resistance."

            "Ah, sure, Mr. Murphy. I don't see why not." Laguna shrugged and shifted forward. "I'll do what I can."

            Which was very little, he thought. His role as president was more symbolic than influential.  Essentially, the only power he had was about as strong as a signature on a proffered document. In truth he had little say about the nature of anything he had signed since taking on the job. Esthar's parliamentary system featured a strong legislature that was quite adept at running itself.

            What might have been considered a smile on another but looked more like a grimace on Murphy passed over the other man's rugged face. "Excellent, Mr. President. My office will keep you updated."  

            "Thanks." When the defence minister continued to look at him expectantly Laguna coughed and waved a hand. "You can go. I'm sure you are busy."

            Once Waylon had departed Laguna slumped down in his seat. Stretching his legs out under the desk he made use of the reclining backrest. 

That had not been so bad, he reassured himself. Despite grumblings in the cabinet Murphy seemed like a practical man. It was time Esthar paid a little more attention to global affairs anyway. One couldn't keep his head shoved under the grass forever. Or was that the sand?

Deciding it didn't matter he folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. After all this hard work he figured he deserved a nap.

"So, you folks from around here?" The driver pf the lorry glanced from the road to bestow his passengers with the full benefit of his tobacco-stained teeth. The corners of his eyes wrinkled. The lines that splayed across his face with the action proved it was a common expression.

Quistis forced her body to relax. There was nothing menacing in his tone and his question was harmless enough. Typical for someone in his position. The air in the cab was tepid and reeked of sweat and excrement. Vile, to be sure, but not alarming. She fidgeted clumsily, careful to maintain ample distance between herself and the man. She was not a snob, she told herself. She was simply being cautious.

"No. We're actually on our way back to Balamb." There seemed to be no real reason to lie. It was not like he was a threat to two trained mercenaries.

"You don't say," the man drawled out. Quistis couldn't place his accent. It was different than any she'd ever encountered. Came out like a mix of Nanchucket twang and Long Horn nasal. Odd, but not totally displeasing to the ear.

"That's a long way from Lallapalooza. Whatcha doin' this far south of Galbadia?"

Seifer didn't trust him. For the first time he was beginning to think the whole hitchhiking thing was a mistake. Sure and he appeared like the average yokel, transporting his homegrown fertilizer to sell in Timber. But he couldn't be positive these unassuming farmers from the outskirts of society were not the ones to suspect the most. His instincts were screaming that something was wrong. Who knew how far they would go to protect their land? He was not sure the man's queries were entirely conversational.

"Work-related." He heard Quistis reply. "The rest of our team is waiting in Timber."

Seifer bit back a groan. Why didn't she just give him their full names and bios? He satisfied his frustration by giving her ankle a sharp nudge. When she turned to regard him with frown he rolled his eyes toward the driver. She shrugged and looked away.

"What's going on in a pokey city like Timber that you youngsters could be interested in? Not much jobs available now with things being as they are." The inflection in his tone had changed. It was slightly harder, more insistent. 

He lost the Nanchucket and picked up a touch of something else that she couldn't quite place. Whatever it was Quistis had a feeling he was no longer making idle chitchat. 

Seifer kicked her again with greater force and this time she acknowledged its purpose.

"Hotels." It was Seifer who answered this time, lying with practiced ease. "We work for the Balamb tourist board and have been conducting research across the continent. Surveying vacationers and business travellers."

"Huh."

They were just outside the canyon now, driving along the plateau known as Shenand Hill. Quistis noticed their driver's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Beneath the dark hair his knuckles were white. She glanced up and was startled by the snarl on his lips. It was barely detectable through the thick stubble that thrived around the lower half of his face.

"If that's true," the man nearly spat out. "Then why the hell was you driving a Garden rig?"

Her eyes widened at his gnashing tone. Before she had a chance to respond his flannel-covered arms jerked to the left. Tyres screamed at the jagged turn. Quistis hung onto the dashboard for survival as the truck barrelled over the meridian and off the road onto the crimson rock. Next to her Seifer jerked in his seat. She shot a glance at her driver and caught the glazed determination in his dark eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" she heard Seifer shout sooner than she could get her breath back. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Not today." The man's arms were steady as he accelerated across the hill, navigating past boulders and trees. "Got something else in mind."

Regaining control of her coordination Quistis made a grab for the wheel. When that proved fruitless she unbuckled her seat belt and slumped down on the bench. Ignoring her clambering teeth she ground her jaw and slid her foot closer to that of the driver's. Her thoughts were scattered and she acted on instinct, grinding her heel into the man's foot with all her might.

"Shit!" Distracted and in slight pain he let up his hold on the pedal. That was all the opportunity she needed. 

Adrenaline soaring she shoved into him, loosening his hold on the wheel. She felt Seifer lean over her and reach his arm around the vinyl seat to grab the back of the man's neck. He squeezed his fingers and the man growled, head thrusting back against the Plexiglas window.

Quistis hurled her weight into him again to plaster him against the door. When his hands released the steering completely she was ready to grab it. Moving quickly her foot found the brake and she pumped on it, hard, while frantically steering away from the fast approaching tree.

All was not over yet. The man bucked his body in an attempt to remove Seifer's hand, which caused Quistis to hurtle forward. The truck lurched to the side but her foot remained pressed to the brake, slowing their speed considerably. She let out a grunt as her chest hit the heavy wheel and her forehead knocked against the rear view mirror. Hands free the man was able to heave her to the other side of the cab and take charge of the controls.

The vehicle gained speed now as he drove them blindly forward. Quistis' limbs tangled with Seifer's as she tried to recover her position. Maintaining his clenched grasp on the man's thick throat, Seifer reached over with his other arm to release the catch of his seat belt. Concentrating, he felt around the door for the handle while Quistis fought with their driver for control of the wheel.

The lorry jerked left and right in a frenetic pattern. Breathing hard, Quistis flung back her head and whammed him below the belt with her fist. He doubled over, howling in agony.

Seifer took advantage of the larger man's weakened state to tug open the door and use his strength to ram him out of the racing vehicle. Falling from the spot she had taken in Seifer's lap while battling with their attempted killer, Quistis plonked herself in the driver's seat and slammed on the brakes.

Only then did she look up. The Lallapalooza River tumbled beneath the overhang of the canyon just metres in front of them.

"Fuck!" Seifer shouted next to her, clenching his fists and preparing his body for the cold wave that was going to engulf his body. There was no time to abandon ship.

She tried to wrench the tyres away from the water but her foot on the brake rendered any attempt at steering useless. They were going to get wet, and soon.

Rubber wailed against rock as the truck skidded along the ground. Quistis closed her eyes and let go of the wheel just as they drove straight into the water.

Once they hit, she held her breath. The river water didn't soak them immediately but as the truck crashed it poured through the open door, sinking the vehicle further into its depths. Pulling her body away from the wheel she kicked her feet against the floor of the cab and fought to keep herself above water.

Seifer followed after her but he wasn't able to keep his head above the surface. Heaving himself free from the metal he pushed himself up to where he could see Quistis treading water. Rising into the air he released his lungs and shook off his hair.

Quistis coughed up some of the water that had forced its way in through her nose and pushed back her sopping hair. She faced Seifer then, breath coming out in short gasps. They eyed each other for a moment before she turned away and swam toward shore. Still coughing she sat upon the warm rock to allow her pulse to return to its natural rhythm. She bent her legs and placed her head between her knees, eyes closed. Only now did she think about what had just happened.

Dropping down next to her, Seifer hacked up his own mouthful of river water. The liquid tasted gritty in his mouth and he figured it was most likely polluted. Leaning over the side of the rock he spat what he could back into the river. It was beyond disgusting. He'd kill for some mouthwash right about then.

Still breathing deeply, he sat back with his legs bent in a similar position to Quistis' and looked over at her. She relaxed now, arms straight back behind her and face titled toward the sun with her eyelids lowered. Rivulets of water dripped down her cheeks and arms. Her uniform was drenched and clung to her bare thighs. Seifer moved his gaze back to the river, brushing an arm over his brow to remove the drops of water that clung there. His sweatshirt was equally wet so he shoved up the sleeves.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the rumble of the tributary and the quiet breeze against the cliffs. It was only her sigh that he him glancing over again. 

She sat up now, legs folded together at her side. Strands of her hair had already begun to dry in the warmth of the late afternoon sun and hung about her face in a dishevelled fashion. He imagined he appeared just as bedraggled, wet denim fitting snugly against his legs, his polyester sweatshirt sticking to his heated skin in all the wrong places. His own hair was also drying in the sunshine, causing his scalp to itch in the most uncomfortable manner.

"Well, that was interesting." Quistis observed, putting a hand to her forehead in weariness. She looked at him. "What do you say we never do that again?"

Unfortunately, she had spoken too soon. The disjointed beat of laboured breathing reached their ears at the same time and both looked over across the red sandstone plain. Their former adversary staggered toward them, a shimmering blade brandished in one hand. Obviously he was not to be put off so easily. A fleeting regret passed through Quistis' mind that it was a shame she had not had the presence of mind to run him over with his vehicle.

With reluctance they rose off the ground to face the armed man. Seifer doubted it would take long to finish him off, thank Hyne. He did not have the energy for wrestling in the dirt.

"Thought you'd get rid of me quickly, eh?" The man grinned at them and swung his knife through the air in what he must have thought was a threatening manner. "Steal my truck and run off to alert your cronies. Well, guess what? This is not your lucky day!"

Quistis and Seifer exchanged glances. This guy would be easy pickings. She put her hand to her hip where her whip was still secured. The water had done little to loosen its fastenings. 

Their former driver took a few lumbering steps forward. "You isn't getting away from me this time. Damned mercenaries, blaspheming against the Great Hyne. You'll all get your comeuppances. Every last one of ya!" He slashed with the blade again as he ranted, lurching forward.

The man is a loose cannon, Quistis thought. His erratic behaviour made her hesitant to react. She couldn't judge her timing and did not want to alert him with any sudden movements. Next to her she sensed tension building in Seifer. Her brain sent off alarm bells.

"Hyne is malevolent against those who stand against Him. He will not suffer you to live. It is my duty, as a direct descendent to follow in His holy path and destroy all those who threaten His will. Especially you of Garden, foul sorceress-killers, you are." The man was close enough now Quistis could smell the tobacco on his breath. "Acting against Hyne's divine commands. It is time to face your true enmity. I shall smite thee!"

When he lunged forward Quistis had her whip in her hand and sent it slicing through the air to snap along his tender throat. Seifer jumped into action as well, grabbing the wrist that supported the dagger and twisting it. With a howl the man let go.

Quistis attacked with her whip again, cutting smooth lines across his browned skin. His head snapped back, spewing a trail of blood into the slight breeze. Seifer stepped forward and slammed his fist into the man's solar plexus. When he fell like a dead weight, he let go of his arm and stepped back. The sound of bone smacking against hard rock had both of them wincing.

Impassively they regarded the heavyset man who lay face-first on the rock. She crouched down and checked his pulse. Faint but still there. She rose to her full height, keeping her eyes on their fallen attacker.

"Should we kill him?"

"Nah." Seifer did not sound surprised at her question. He looked down at the man with contempt. "Not worth the effort. I got nothing but pity for the pathetic bastard." 

Quistis nodded and turned away, sliding her whip back into its familiar place. "He's from Holy Glory Cape. I didn't recognize the accent at first." She refocused her attention on Seifer. "It's an island belonging to Dollet, settled by Hyne extremists. I've never encountered anyone this radical before, though. Most of the time they act as peaceful missionaries."

He shrugged with one shoulder and glanced away from her penetrating stare. "Guess I just bring out the best in people."

She frowned and took a step in his direction, shaking her head. "I wasn't implying that you had…" Her voice trailed off when he shoved his hands in his pockets and twisted away.

            "Forget it, Trepe." He began to trek across the sandstone. "We have a long walk to Timber."

            Sighing, Quistis relaxed her brow. She didn't know why she even bothered.

            "Uh, Almasy?" She let her lips curve into a smirk when he angled his neck back to look at her. "The road's that way." She gestured with a thumb behind her.

            His answering scowl caused the smirk to grow into a grin. One more for her.

            Duffle bag slung over his shoulder Zell strolled jauntily toward the city gates of what he considered his hometown. He'd just been informed of Balamb Garden's return to the Alcauld Plains an hour ago and thought he might as well return early to see what was up. After two weeks spent on leave enjoying the home cooking of his mother and the quiet atmosphere the peaceful city had to offer, he was ready to take on the obligations of a SeeD once more.

            The months after the final defeat of Ultimecia had been taxing on his spirit. Most of it was depleted in conference rooms and meeting halls. They had all needed a break. And since his talents had not been required for the Timber negotiations Zell had been granted furlough for as long as the moveable Garden remained on the western continent. It was supposed to have been three weeks but he didn't mind returning sooner. He was anxious to get back to work. And, though he'd never admit it out loud, fourteen days was more than enough time to spend with his overprotective maternal figure. The war had turned him from a teenager into a man and a guy got used to the freedom of being on his own.

            As he neared the car hire several young females holding clipboards accosted him. They were not from Balamb; that he recognized right out. 

            "Hi there!" A perky blonde dressed in a smart blue pantsuit greeted him with a brilliant smile. "Do you have a moment to help those in danger of utter destruction?"

            Zell blinked. His mind blanked and he took a step in retreat, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, I guess so."

            "I just knew you'd understand!" The petite redhead at his elbow gushed. "You looked like a decent human being. As soon as I saw you I said to Ginny, doesn't he look like a nice guy? And I was right!"

            The blonde, who he assumed must be Ginny, nodded emphatically. "So will you sign our petition to end the breeding and slaying of innocent creatures within Gardens across the world?" She continued to explain when he gave her a confused look. 

"Military schools like Balamb and Galbadia actually _breed_ creatures for the sole purpose of killing them. Can you believe that? It's totally inhumane. A modern world like ours should not allow such cruel torture. It is simply disgusting how this activity has been allowed to progress for so long. So we have decided to take a stand!" Ginny cocked her head, curly ponytail swinging cutely behind her. 

"You will join our mission, won't you?" She then unleashed her secret weapon. The power of her soft brown eyes had most males falling at her feet within seconds. Zell Dincht was not immune.

Rubbing harder at the back of his neck, he felt a blush begin to heat his cheeks. He was at a loss for words. The redhead piped up when he hesitated.

"Just think of those poor little creatures, wandering around, happy, healthy, unsuspecting, then WHAM!" She smacked her hands together in front of his face and made him jump. "Dead at the hands of an evil, selfish bastard."

His eyes widened in alarm. "B-but I work at Garden." He stammered, glancing first at one then the other female. "I…I am a SeeD."

The girls looked at each other, exchanging smiles of eager elation. This was better than they had expected! Ginny's mouth puckered in a squeal of excitement. Her friend jumped into the air and clapped her hands.

"That's perfect!" Ginny told him. "Now we have someone on the inside! Sign here." She thrust the clipboard into his hands, pen dangling on a string over the side.

Zell was simply gob smacked. Not wanting to disappoint them and doubting it was cause too much trouble he scribbled his name in an empty space then handed the board back over. The girls huddled together to observe his signature and squealed in delight once more.

"Thanks a million!" bubbled Ginny. She looked over at her companion then back at Zell. Her brown eyes now glowed into his. "Heeey! Could you get us in to Garden? That would be awesome!"

"Oh, wow! You're the best, Mr. Dincht!" The redhead chimed in. "We've been trying, like, forEVER. That's awful nice of you."

"What do you say we meet you out front tomorrow? You can introduce us to the headmaster directly!" The girls whooped again at Ginny's suggestion. "I can't believe how lucky we were to run into you like this! See you later, Mr. Dincht! You won't regret it!" With several repeated enthusiastic waves the girls were off down the street, squealing and running up to another hapless pedestrian.

Zell remained in one spot scratching his head and wondering what had just hit him. He felt like his entire system had just been overhauled by a monsoon. With a shake of his head he slowly spun on his heel and made his way down the road leading to Garden. The entire forty-five minute journey was spent in a daze.


	5. Into the Fire

"Cards are war, in disguise of a sport." ~ Charles Lamb

**Into the Fire**
    
    _I'm reunited_
    
    _Into the fire_
    
    _I am the spark_
    
    _Into the fire_
    
    _I yearn for comfort_
    
    _Open the doors that lead on into eden_
    
    _Don't want no cheap disguise_
    
    _I follow the signs marked back to the beginning_
    
    _No more compromise_(Sarah McLachlan)

Shaggy and sinister brows lowered over equally dark but emaciated eyes. The skin beneath the intimidating glare was sallow and equally withered. Pockmarks scattered over shapeless cheeks and blotted a nose that had been broken well over one too many times. The lower portion of the face was speckled with coarse hair that must have been irritating, as the skin beneath the whiskers was blotched with red. Every now and then, an abrasive hand covered with more hair and even darker blotches would reach up to rub at the tender area between gnawed lips and stark chin.

Quistis barely blinked an eye when the man's stomach muscles contracted beneath heavy tartan flannel, causing a nauseating burst to rupture from bowels and diaphragm simultaneously. Her pale hand remained steady as it swiftly shuffled the well-worn deck of cards with the nonchalance of any experienced player. Gaze direct and slightly bored she laid the stack on the knotted bar table in front of her. With a curve in her smooth brow, imperceptible to the casual observer, and a mocking smile toying with her lips, she inclined her head toward her challenger.

"Gentlemen first." 

The man shifted his bulk and the chair let out a moan to show its displeasure. He scratched at his stubble as if in contemplation. "What are the rules?"

"Rules?" Quistis glanced around the table to share the joke with the small crowd that had gathered amidst the smoke and pungent alcohol. The Timber Pub was a place one called on for one reason only: to get drunk fast. Hence, it was also an excellent place for a fast hand to make some many. She had been able to scam many of the regulars out of their loose change already. Some were more gullible than others. 

Her eyes alighted with amusement. "This is a bar, not a schoolyard. What do we need rules for?" There was a smattering of chuckles from the congested audience.

"Look, lady," he grunted, slamming his fist on the table. Her neat pile scattered over the wood and his beer glass jiggled. He had lost three rounds to this smug female and he was determined not to lose any more. "I don't know what yer tryin' to pull but I ain't fallin' fer yer shady deals. We're gonna do this up front or we ain't gonna do it at all." One beefy arm lifted to wipe his nose. "How do I know dem cards of yers ain't marked?" 

Her expression remained placid as she swiftly collected the strewn deck in one hand and raised it in offering. "Why don't we switch, then? It makes no difference to me."

His beady eyes narrowed even further so that she could barely see his pupils. Suspicious of her proposal but not detecting any foul play in her logic, he reached into the back pocket of his coveralls and pulled out his own tattered deck. 

Inwardly, he congratulated himself on his ingenious plan. This strange woman appeared to have more rare cards in her grasp than he had seen in his long lifetime of gambling. Over the years, his own stash had been greatly depleted by numerous losses. There was no way she could beat him using his collection. The lady was not as smart as she looked. He couldn't resist a little grin. It was beginning to look like Lady Luck was back on his side.

"All right. I'll take you up on yer deal. But we still gotta have rules." His tone narrowly concealed his delight.

Quistis sighed at his fixation and waved a hand. "If you insist. How's this," she shuffled his cards with a one-hand cut, keeping her eyes on him. "Random, Same/Plus, Sudden Death. And what were the stakes again?"

"Double or nothin'," he spat out as he roughly handled her prized cards. She figured she deserved an award for not ripping them out of his grubby hands. He kept his eyes on the cards in front of him as he sloppily rearranged the order. "Remember?"

"Of course," her reply was smooth. A large contrast to his gruff and flustered demeanour. Her cool brow only served to frustrate him further. "And to prove my integrity." She held up the stack of cards to the man on her right. "I'll have him select them for me." 

"Oh yeah? Well, me too." He thrust them toward Seifer who stood next to Quistis' chair, with arms crossed and expression drawn. "Just to show I'm a good sport." At that comment, the laughter became raucous and several men called out jeering remarks. A few were silenced with a glare.

Rolling his eyes, Seifer counted out five cards from each deck and dealt them to the respective players. The idiocy in the room was astounding. So palpable it was practically buzzing in his ears. He doubted the combined I.Q. of the room was much above three hundred. And that was including Quistis and himself.

The man's grin spread wider when he got a look at his hand. Not bad at all. He decided he was in for a windfall.

Quistis hardly glanced at her cards before placing them in front of her on the table. "Shall we begin?"

He glanced up and smiled in what he must have thought to be a genteel fashion. "Why don't you draw first? I'll give ya a handicap."

Willing to play along, she selected almost at random and slid it onto the game board. It was of poor calibre, a low rank monster card, and his cheeks began to ache from grinning so much. 

He felt a twinge of guilt for pulling one over on her like this. After all, the match was largely unfair. But when he thought of how many packs of cigarettes he could get with his winnings he quickly squelched all thoughts heading in that direction. She knew the risk. He shoved a card next to the other on the board and flipped hers over. 

"Sorry, honey." Now he could afford to be polite. "Better luck next time." 

The patrons of the bar fell into a hush. Several caught their breath and waited in anticipation of her next move. She would have trouble defeating a high card like that.

Quistis had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at such an obvious move. The man was too pathetic for words. She could only pray he was a better player while sober. No one played his or her highest card at the start of a round. Not even Zell.

She placed her next card on the opposite end of the board, taking on a defensive mode. He immediately followed up with another high card, flipping hers over once again. Seifer snorted quietly at the man's eagerness. He was no high-ranking player but even he could see the large holes the brash man was leaving wide open.

Pursing her lips, she tapped a nail against a card on the table. Her eyes studied the board, moved down to the cards, up to her opponent's face, then back at the board. She nibbled at the inside of her cheek and wrinkled her nose. Emitting a tiny humming sound, she lifted the card under her hand as if to place it on a square. But she subsequently changed her mind and put it back down. 

The tension increased triple fold. As did the amount of searing smoke. Yet, she noticed none of it. Not even as the latter caused her eyes to moisten. She was having way too much fun.

After a few moments of mental debate, she selected another card and put it on the board, defeating his by one value. She allowed a jubilant smile to form on her lips and she met her rival's gaze.

He was not the least bit concerned by this fresh development. In fact, he was pleased the match would not be won so easily. There was nothing like a challenge to get the blood pumping. He creased his wrinkled brow before turning her third card over to up the score one more time for his side. Back to his comfort zone.

Growing bored with the game, Quistis decided it was about time to end it and get out of there. Her feet still pained her from walking in from the desert and she was looking forward to a hot shower and a well-earned rest at the hotel. A rest that would be even better than she had planned ~ based on the winnings she had accumulated thus far. 

Whatever else she raked in could go toward some new shoes.

On a long sigh, she lifted a fourth card and placed it in between his on the board, managing to flip over all placed cards but one. She looked up and shrugged a shoulder. "Your move."

The congregated crowd broke out. Some in hefty whoops and others in unrestrained guffaws. Even more stood in pure disbelief, jaws dropped and flabbergasted cries pouring out of their open mouths. A move like that had not been seen among their ranks for quite some time.

Her opponent was equally dumbfounded. His eyes went wide and he stared at the board in a mixture of awe and horror. He hadn't seen it coming. How did she do that with such low-end cards? Something did not seem to fit.

"Free lesson," Quistis smirked. "Don't ever go double or nothing unless you know your opponent better than yourself."

Any chance at further game play was lost however. The man's buddies jostled the table to get a better view of the laid out cards. The severe bumping tipped the table and cards were strewn out over the floor underneath. Elbows jabbing and wide bellies protruding. 

Quistis found herself knocked out of her chair due to the sudden onslaught of heavy male bodies. She decided take her resources and run before total chaos erupted in the corner of the bar.

Hoping to go unnoticed, she bent and collected what she could of her own cards from the floor. She was grateful for the foresight that had told her to leave most of them at Garden. Seifer appeared at her side as she straightened and she met his glance. "Ready to go?"

"More than."

Together they headed for the exit, moving as quickly as they could without drawing attention. He had his hand outstretched to push open the door. And they would have made it out without mishap if it were not for the bouncer getting in the way. 

Seifer raised his eyebrows and looked up. He cursed violently. The man must have been at least seven feet tall and he carried a threatening iron truncheon. Damn the woman and her ego.

In unison, they turned around to judge their odds with the mobilized crowd versus the cosh-carrier. Quistis' former opponent lurched out of the fray with a wild glint in his eyes. He rolled his flannel sleeves up on his arms and clenched both meaty hands. 

"Free lesson," he ground out. "Don't bet against the house unless you want to lose."

So, Quistis thought to herself, maybe I could have stood to know my challenger a little better as well.

The temperature of the room was just above freezing, a fact that was not aided by the un-insulated concrete of the walls. Yet those who met there once a week without fail were not bothered by the cold anymore than they were by the dingy lighting of a small gas lamp that took up space on the single piece of furniture. For their purposes, they could not afford windows or electricity. Nor could they chance moving anything larger than a makeshift table into the basement room. 

The elite group had a cautious enrolment of ten. The leader strictly prohibited further recruitment with except with his explicit assessment and approval. Moreover, nothing discussed at each meeting was to go beyond the planked and padlocked door. Punishable by death. And if a government authority ever questioned a member directly, he was fully prepared to curtail any leak. Suicide was strongly encouraged. The rules of the group were not to be observed lightly, as dictated by the leader and the manifesto all were required to sign. When one is discussing the overthrow of the world, he cannot risk word getting out.

That night all ten members were present but this came as no surprise. If one did not show, he was believed to be dead. Even if he wasn't he would be within a few hours. Enrolment was for life and attendance was mandatory. 

A man of impressive size monitored the door. Built like a tank his presence was enough to deter the more slender formed members from disobedience. He was the leader's bodyguard and the mechanical specialist. There was not a vehicle he could not hotwire, nor a safe he could not crack. A skull he could not fracture. Despite his exterior, however, the Tank was not the most fearsome of the group.

Among the ranks was one woman. Frail and petite in appearance she scarcely looked like a prominent member of a well-organized, militant, anarchist faction. With her pale blond hair, china-doll skin, and cornflower blue eyes she looked more like a cheerleader than a radical. But she was the leader's most trusted adherent and all members had been taught to approach her with the utmost respect. She was the weapons specialist and had great influence over their position in the group. She was not to be underestimated.

She opened the proceedings that evening. Her wispy voice called the meeting to order and requested reports from each person in the room. She tilted her head and listened as each spoke up in turn. Her brow furrowed when the information was less than positive, eyes cool and jaw set. When something pleased her, she would nod her head ever so slightly and drum a set of pink fingernails on the table. Such a simple action of recognition would cause the speaking member's shoulders to straighten with pride. 

All but one. The tall man who chose to stand in the corner, where the light of the flickering lamp only touched half his face. Few knew his real name, even the leader only referred to him by an alias. He was the sniper, the trained assassin. His frame was slight, built for moving in and out of the shadows, slipping in and out where he chose. None noticed his presence in a room unless he desired it so. Among his fellow members, there was a distinct fear of his ruthlessness, his unequivocal lack of any form of conscience. He knew this and approved of it. His position was secured that way. There would be no kowtowing from his region of the room.

When the reports were given and the secretary had copied every articulation into the minutes with his precise script, the woman stepped back from the table and allowed the leader to take the floor.

His eyes were covered by thick sunglasses, as they always were. And his head was cleanly shaven. Just another area of protection. His hands were gloved in black leather and he clasped them behind his back as he addressed the assembled group. When he spoke his voice was a deep baritone that resounded to the tall man in the back of the room, more than likely also masked as a form of precaution.

"Tonight." He uttered the word with such force all nine listeners were put instantly on edge. "Tonight we determine the fate of the world."

Out of breath and limbs exhausted from running, Quistis stopped her rapid escape in front of the Timber Hotel. She glanced down the narrow, curving street. When she did not see her trackers, she closed her eyes and bent to rest her hands on her knees. 

This had been one of the longest days of her life. Almost longer than the day she fought Ultimecia and endured time compression. Certainly more aggravating. Comeuppance, she vowed. Best friend or not, Xu was going to pay dearly.

When the buzzing in her head began to dissipate, she detected the steady rhythm of applause. The headache returned in full force and she waited a few more beats before regarding her charge.

The mocking twist of Seifer's features caused her stomach muscles to clench and it took all of her remaining energy to force down the urge to degenerate him permanently from this world and beyond. Icily, she stared back at him and crossed her arms, tapping her foot on the cobblestone walk. She wondered if he would be so cocky if she were to send a ray-bomb his way.

"Are you done?" Frost practically crystallized from her words.

Seifer tried to bite back his laughter but gave up when he didn't see the point. "Oh, no, duchess. You deserve much more than a round of applause. What you did in there was nothing short of brilliant. If only the Trepies could see you now."

"Shut up, Almasy." Quistis snapped then immediately regretted it when she saw his lips quiver in amusement. She told herself he was a pawn, a mere criminal, lowborn and deserving of her pity. Lichen like him was not worth the wrath that gurgled in her blood. "It got us out of there, didn't it?"

"Sure it did," he said agreeably but his eyes still twinkled. "Of course that little stunt you pulled is going to make it pretty damn hard for you to show your face around here for a long time." He shook his head and grinned, white teeth shining in the moon's glow. "Seducing a poor, defenceless bouncer like that, wrapping him all up in knots and then running away. Never figured you for a tease, Trepe." 

His laughter rose in pitch as her face heated to a shade of crimson that was noticeable even in the shadowed light. He took it for embarrassment and could not resist egging her on one more step. "You oughtta be ashamed of yourself."

At that all her mental restraints gave way. All her training in decorum abandoned her under the wave of rage that engulfed her system. She leapt forward with her whip at the ready. Her vision was clouded and the release of the dam on her emotions prevented her from calculating her opponent for the second time that night. 

Seifer saw her coming. He managed to snatch the golden tail of her weapon in his hand before it snapped against his face to gave him another scar. The whip sliced into his gloveless hand and he made a small sound of pain as it connected. But he did not release his hold. 

Surprised, Quistis could not stop him from jerking her forward against his broader form. Not for the first time she was made aware how much stronger he was than she, especially given her unjunctioned state. She knew just as well as he did that if he wanted to, he could kill her right now and escape. But as she glanced into his eyes, she saw no promise of violence there, only scorn and amusement. Quistis tore herself away from his grip and tugged on her weapon until he released that as well. 

"It's lucky you are I'm not junctioned," she told him, breath coming out in tiny gasps. Her gaze remained steady on his, as emotionless as she could muster. She refused to show him how weak she had felt under his show of power. She was in charge, dammit.

Seifer raised his brows in acknowledgement. "If you say so."

Her eyes widened and she almost prepared to launch another attack at his display of disrespect until she saw his mouth twitch with humour. He was making fun of her, she realized. And she had played right into his hands. God, she was worse than Zell Dincht. There was nothing a bully loved more than a volatile target. The humiliation of that lowered her self-esteem a few more pegs.

"Look, Almasy." She let out a sigh and replaced her weapon. "We don't have time for this. Let's just check in at the hotel and get some sleep. I managed to get enough out of those perverts to buy us a decent room for the night. Then tomorrow we can check the train schedule for transportation to Balamb." 

Her voice took on a bitter edge with those last words and her eyes heated. She realized her rage at Seifer was probably only misplaced anger that would be more constructively pelted toward her honourable commanding officer when she returned to Garden. Not to mention Xu for getting her involved in this mess from the beginning. 

Willing to go along with her intimation of a truce, Seifer nodded. "Sounds good." He fell into step beside her as the walked the rest of the way to the hotel entrance. 

Wanting to avoid her temper, he had withstood the itch to ask Quistis what she had been told over the pay phone at the bar by the Garden representative. 

When they had arrived in Timber after traipsing through the desert, they had found the mobile bulk of Balamb Garden conspicuously absent from its position on the Shenand Hill. Quistis had gone eerily quiet. She had headed into the city without a word, marching toward the pub and the long distance pay telephone outside. From what he had gathered from his one-sided perspective on the conversation, Garden would not be returning to Timber for some time. Which required them to take the train to Balamb City. His handler had been most unimpressed with this news and he had been reluctant to bring it up with her. 

At the entrance to the hotel, right away Seifer noticed something was wrong. The entrance was sealed off with black and yellow tape and posted on the glass door was a sign etched with scrawled black felt. He heard a muffled groan next to him as Quistis' gaze zeroed in on the words of the sign. 

The basic gist of it was that the hotel was closed due to emergency circumstances and the staff was very sorry for any inconveniences. Seifer had to read it through twice to make sure he wasn't just going blind.

Emotions running on high-speed, Quistis flung herself onto the top step leading up to the hotel. She did not move from that position for a few minutes. Just continued to sit with her feet on the lower stair, her arms resting on her knees, and her eyes staring straight ahead, unseeing. Her face took on a peculiar expression and Seifer made sure he stood far enough away to deflect any sudden move she might make. He had never seen her like this before and wasn't at all sure how to react.

Running a hand through his hair, he observed her sullen frame. "Uh, Trepe? Are you planning on sitting there all night? Because I know for a fact it's going to get frickin' cold and…"

His words trailed off when she tipped her head back on the cement and laughed. Her eyes closed and her face lit up with mirth, she let the sensation roll out of her, releasing all the pressure of the day in one final burst. For some reason she could not stop it. Her situation was not remotely funny yet the laughter continued to bubble up from her diaphragm and out into the chilled night air, unchecked. Her lungs practically heaved with it. When it the waves of hysteria began to subside, she lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle the rest of her giggles. She looked up and saw Seifer gaping at her as if she had morphed into a Jellyeye. This, of course, only increased her desire to laugh.

But this time she restricted her hilarity to a few snickers, hidden behind a gloved hand. She rose to her feet in one motion and stood on the bottom step, observing the man in front of her. His jaw had closed but he was still staring at her with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked her, with a trace of irritation. 

She realized he assumed she had been laughing at him and the knowledge made her smile and shake her head. Quistis leaned over to pat his cheek in reassurance. "Nothing, I'm fine. How's crashing at the train station sound?"

Annoyed with her patronizing attitude he gripped the wrist against his cheek. Aggravation flashed in her eyes at his touch and he was instantly relieved to see that the old Quistis he understood was still alive. He was about to reply in his typical smart-ass manner when the sound of footsteps distracted him.

"Hey!" called out an unfamiliar voice. "Are you Seifer Almasy?"

Quistis rolled her eyes and ordered her spent body back into battle mode. All she wanted was to find a spot to curl up and sleep for about a hundred hours. She was beginning to doubt she would ever get that chance again.


	6. Wolves of the Renaissance

"A man is not good or bad for one action" ~ Thomas Fuller.

Vox Populi 

Ain't no use in being faithful,  
I see you look at the sky.  
I know what's in it make you happy there,  
But it only make you cry.  
I think you got good intentions too,  
They don't manage to show through.  
Whatever you give to the world outside,  
I wanna give it right back to you, yes I am! (Janis Joplin)

"Quistis?" The young man who had called out to them blinked, and took a step back. "I didn't expect it to be you."

Quistis' hands stiffened on the handle of her weapon. "Didn't expect what to be…" Her voice trailed off as she took in his slim frame and slightly familiar hairstyle. There was something about his eyes that triggered her memory. Her eyes widened.

"Zone?"

"That'd be me." Looking somewhat nervous, he tucked his hands into the loose pockets of his denim shorts and rolled back on his heels. He glanced to the left before speaking again.

"The guys at the pub told me you all had been through. Well, people of your description, anyway." He amended hastily. "A blond man with an unusual scar and, ah, a female with, um…Anyway, I guess I figured about right."

"Guess you did," Seifer agreed easily, hiding a snicker at his handler's expense. He stepped forward to offer his hand. "How've you been, man? Watts still around?"

"Uh...yeah." Zone shot a glance toward Quistis before he shook the hand of his old buddy from pre-war days. "Yeah, he and I are still hangin'. Folded the Owls, though. Didn't see much point in continuing. Especially with you and Rinoa gone."

"Serious?" Raising his eyebrows, Seifer shook his head. For some reason the idea saddened him. "Never thought I'd see the day you gave up. Don't tell me you've gone legit."

Once more the other man looked at Quistis before he responded. He scratched his cheek and let out an uneasy chuckle. "Yeah, right." Another jittery laugh. 

"No, actually. We've just managed to hook up with a bigger power. 'S why I was excited to hear you were in town. It'd be great to have you on board, if you're interested."

Quistis was not surprised to hear Zone and Watts had begun another independence group. She doubted there was a citizen in Timber who was not a card-carrying member of some form of anti-Galbadian faction. The numbers had tripled after the war. 

But, she was intrigued by the apparent history between the two males. Judging by Seifer's relaxed tone and comfortable manner, they had been fairly close. She had not seen him act that way around anyone before, including his old Garden cronies.

She hopped off the step to stand next to Seifer. "How have the campaigns been going so far?" A cooling draught breezed past her bare legs and she crossed her arms to ward off the chill. "Have you been corresponding with Garden? I heard Squall was thinking about re-engaging the contract."

Zone's expression darkened at that. "No. We want nothing more to do with the establishment." His hands clenched at his sides. 

"It's up to us, the people. Only Timberians can truly understand the cause. We're all prepared to fight, to the death if we have to."

Taken aback, Quistis took a quick look at Seifer, but he was too busy watching the other man with something akin to admiration. She rolled her eyes. How typical of a man. Pig-headed fools, the lot of them.

"So, anyway, Seifer." Zone turned back to his ally. His voice became more animated and lost the edge of resentment. "Now that you're released whaddya think about re-joining? It'd be great to have you on our side again, might give us some more leverage with the government hacks." He grinned, his dark brown eyes lighting up. "Besides, it's been a while since we fought together and the guys'd be thrilled." 

"About that," Seifer adjusted his weight and rubbed a hand over his chin. "I'm not exactly free and clear, in case you couldn't tell." He motioned toward Quistis with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and slant of his head.

"No he's not. Unfortunately, I am required to return him to Garden." Straightening her shoulders to a more professional stance, she regarded Zone with a civil smile.

"Oh, I had no idea." He looked back and forth between them with a somewhat blown expression. The pieces suddenly fell together and his skin paled. "I guess that does change things. Too bad, though, man. Maybe when you're sprung, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe." 

Though Seifer honestly doubted he would be "sprung" from the confines of the ol' B.G. any time in the foreseeable future. Not until his eightieth birthday at the very least. A glance at Quistis' tight features confirmed his estimation. If ever.

"Well, I'll tell everyone the, uh, situation then. It's been _really _good seeing you again." The pallor of Zone's complexion and hesitation of his comportment showed he'd been thinking along similar lines. Shifting on his feet he ran a hand through his short locks. His eyes were filled with pity. "Good luck."

A wince palpable on his face, Seifer echoed the sentiment. He would have slid his attention to Quistis had Zone not stopped short and slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Hey, where are you guys staying tonight?"

Casting an acerbic glance behind her, Quistis cleared her throat. Her expression held dismay. "Obviously not at the hotel. Looks like they're doing some kind of construction."

"You didn't hear?" Eyes wide Zone began to relay the events of the day. "There was some kind of explosion, killed a couple Galbadian and Balamb reps that were here for the congress. No one is allowed in or out of the city until the investigation is finished. 'Course, the hotel is shut down as well."

Seifer arched a brow as he digested the information. _So that's why Garden hightailed it_, he realized. His head shook in derision. _What a bunch of cowards._

But then, this really came as little surprise. Garden had a reputation of stirring things up then leaving right after, bedlam in its wake. It had no consideration for any institution other than itself. One of the reasons he knew that he was not meant to be a SeeD.

"So the train station…" Utter disbelief coloured the tone of Quistis' voice.

"Yep. Closed. Kinda sucks doesn't it?"

"Sucks isn't the word for it." Muttering violent oaths, she lifted both hands to rub at her pounding temples. The migraine was increasing by the second. She could match each hammer of her skull to the rhythm of her pulse. When the throbbing of her swollen feet joined in to create a lovely trio of pain, she drove her hands through her hair and cursed the gods. It was clear every force on the planet was against her. Including her own body.

"That's why I asked. Thought you might wanna stay with me and Watts. We have a place just down the street."

""What happened to the train?" Seifer asked, though he didn't really care about the answer. Even though Timber winters were fairly mild, the night wind could be a bitch. He could already feel it creeping up his neck and was anxious to get inside.

"Aw, that was destroyed by soldiers ages back. When we left the White SeeDs last fall, we found all our old hideouts in ruins. So we took up with Ma until we joined the Wolves." Sensitive to the growing chill himself, Zone directed them down the street. "C'mon, I'll fill you in when we get inside. It's in the basement of the old pet shop."

Immediately Seifer began to follow but was stopped short by a hand snagging a crease in his sleeve. "What?"

"I don't think this is a good idea," Quistis hissed in his ear, features severe. "As a SeeD I must stick to the rules. Taking up with resistance members is not one of them." Her voice remained low, but firm, taking on a familiar didactic quality. The one that had rankled his nerves as a student and made him grit his teeth. Now he just found it mildly amusing.

"Furthermore, I don't know him well enough to trust him."

"Oh, get off your high horse, Trepe." Speaking loud enough for the entire block to hear, Seifer rolled his shoulders and smirked. "This isn't exactly your routine mission. I doubt Cid's going to bust your ass for not wanting to sleep in the street. Do you always have to be such a prude?"

He folded his arms and sneered down at her. Her pedantic tendencies never ceased to annoy him. Inwardly he scorned her, _talk about a wet blanket._ For the first time in five months he couldn't wait to get back to Garden. Now that it meant getting away from the stick-up-her-ass Trepe.

Blue irises ruptured into flames. Colour flowed high across pale cheeks as her jaw dropped. At her sides her hands fisted, nails biting into bare palms. She emitted a sound that came out as a mix between a high-pitched gasp and a resonating growl. Not wanting to get involved, Zone took a few surreptitious paces to the right.

"Listen, Almasy, I am in charge, not you." Despite her careening fury, her words were enunciated with crisp and clear articulation. "You are not a SeeD, you are a charged criminal under my supervision. Got it?"

Lips twitching, he inclined his head.

"Brilliant. From now on you will not speak unless I give you permission and you will do exactly as I say. Think you can handle that?"

When he merely lifted both brows, she let out a breath and relaxed her hands. She wanted to collapse to the ground and weep. But, if nothing else, she would remain in control of her emotions. It seemed to be all she had left. 

Ordering her rage down to a manageable simmer, she looked to Zone who was staring at her with a combination of bewilderment and alarm. "I apologize," she spoke now with a more refined lilt. 

"That was rude of me. Thank you very much for your offer. And if you're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd be grateful to stay at your place for the evening. As you can see, I don't have many other options."

Her tactful manner served to calm the smaller man a little. Though his eyes still shone with fever, he nodded enthusiastically. "It's not a problem at all. Really. In Timber, we like to be hospitable." He continued to babble reassurances as he led them away from the hotel and closer to the centre of town.

Quistis and Seifer followed wordlessly. She was still nursing the pride that his lack of respect had brutally nicked and he was still irritated by the way she had addressed him. As though he were a misbehaving six-year-old. 

Although, he had to admit, the way she had gone from snot-nosed instructor, to impassioned feline, then back to the reserved diplomat had been entertaining to watch. And damn the woman if she didn't look hot with the fire in her cheeks and fervour in her eyes. Such thoughts were disquieting and he did his best to push them to the back of his mind. He preferred her the way she was now, back stiff and eyes looking down her nose like a forty-year-old schoolmarm. It was a lot easier on his system.

When they arrived at the facade of the shop, Zone led them around the back. By the looks of things, the store had closed up several months ago, possibly more. Probably after the soldiers trashed the city looking for rebels, Quistis figured. The building did not appear in any shape to attract future buyers, in any case.

Bending down, he unhooked a rusted latch and hefted open a slab of wood that must have been one half of the cellar's door. The hinges screamed in protest but he managed uncover the wide entrance without great difficulty. Being old, the pine doors were flimsy and she doubted they did much to keep out the cold, or any possible night visitors. Still, it was better than the bitter wind.

Zone moved aside to allow her alight the stairs first. They did not appear to be made of much better wood than the doors so she descended with hesitation. Keeping her mouth shut as her shoulder brushed by a mass of cobwebs, she ducked her head to avoid what looked like a giant spider and continued down the well. The stairs let out a groan of pure agony when Seifer perched on the top step behind her and she did her best not to reply with a moan of her own. As a SeeD, she was accustomed to various environments and prided herself on being able to adjust quickly. But the stairs alone reminded her of an old horror movie. She was all too thankful to reach the bottom alive.

Later, she would swear her nose wrinkled entirely of its own accord when she had her first glimpse of the room in which she would be spending the next eight or so hours. For a moment she was tempted to dart back up the stairway for safety.

_They live here_, was her first thought. _With how many rats, _was her second. _And Zell put up a fuss about the motel at FH_. If only he could see her now.

The heavy clop of Seifer's feet resounded as he lowered from the flight of stairs behind her, with Zone's lighter steps not far in arrears. He stood beside her, complexion cool as he surveyed the room. Quistis arched a brow and scrutinized his face, satisfied when she saw the tiniest indication of repugnance in the lines around his mouth and over his forehead. At least she was not alone.

He rotated his head to catch her measuring gaze and curled his lips in a smirk. Clearly mocking her, his eyes drilled into hers, daring her to comment. They twinkled with delight when she elevated her chin and met his challenge with one of her own. 

_Snob_, he ridiculed.

_Hypocrite, _she thrust back. His eyes narrowed and he turned away. Quistis gloried in the victory.

Wiping a free hand under his nose, Zone landed next to Seifer, oblivious to the war occurring in his living room. "Sorry about the mess," he expressed with an embarrassed grimace. "We don't get much company often and, uh, this isn't exactly the most spacious area." Chuckling nervously, he gestured an arm over the small living space that was currently covered in clothing and food wrappers, among other less appetizing items. 

"We haven't done much for re-decorating either. It's just kind of a place to crash, you know." As he said this he chewed on his bottom lip and glanced at Quistis with apprehension.

"It's fine," Quistis informed him, mentally patting herself on the back for her cordiality. For the performance she was about to give, she deserved an award.

"Please, don't apologize. After all, I'm the one intruding. This place is more than suitable, really. It has definite…character." She could see it now, Quistis Trepe, the Queen of Tact. "Thank you again for letting me stay."

While he did not speak, she thought she heard Seifer snort something under his breath. Suspicion was enough evidence to convict, so she jammed her elbow in the open spot beneath his ribs. He received points for not shouting out.

"You're welcome." Unsure as to how to proceed, Zone scratched at the back of his head. "Would you like to sit down?"

_Where_, Seifer wondered, tongue in cheek. He was not about to voice his opinion, however, not with the Trepe's elbow in such close range. It took all he had not to massage the area she had assailed. The woman had joints of steel.

As much as he appreciated Zone's camaraderie , the place was a sty. He was not exactly a neat-freak himself but every now and then he understood the value of a good air-freshener. Or a can of kerosene. The air was musty at best and a putrid odour rose out from the direction of the ratty, violent orange sofa. At least, he thought it was a sofa. If he owned the place, it would have been torched long ago.

Zone moved forward, kicking aside boxes and bundles as he went, kindly clearing them a path. He reached what looked like a giant crate. They must have used it as a table as he tipped the edge to remove the piles of paper cups, plates, and take-out cartons. When all the items had cascaded to the cement floor, he replaced the table and turned to the fabric folding chairs to give them a similar treatment. Quistis and Seifer watched in silence.

When he was done with that task, he signalled for them to take the chairs with what he hoped was a courteous presentation. "Why don't you guys relax and I'll go find us something to eat. Wake up Watts. He'll want to talk to you as well." 

Before Quistis could decline his considerate offer of sustenance he went darting behind a curtain and into the other room. She sighed and looked back at Seifer, who was currently perusing the area with an innocent expression, whistling silently between his teeth.

Fed up with him for the day, she jerked away and trudged toward the makeshift table. Not once looking back to see if he followed. At the moment, she would not lift a finger if he decided to make a run for it. In all reality, she just did not care anymore. 

Seating herself on one of the fabric chairs, the kind one would normally take with them on a camping trip, she rested an elbow on the crate and dropped her head in her open hand. For just one minute she would revel in the action of resting her weary feet. She would have toed off her broken shoes but she couldn't be sure what creatures roamed liberally across the unfinished flooring. Closing her eyes, she drank in the feeling of resting her body. It had been one of the most trying days of her life.

"God," she murmured to no one in particular. "I'd give my next two years salary for a bottle of aspirin."

Seifer observed her from across the room, took in her shattered form, hunched posture, and creased forehead. Once, he would have taken pleasure in seeing the mighty Quistis Trepe fall victim to such human experiences. Some small part of him still did. All was not forgotten on either of their parts. But now, with the chaos of the room surrounding them and the brutality of the day in their wake, he just felt sympathy. Dangerous, he knew. Sympathy led to kindness, which led to caring. A fatal emotion indeed.

The return of Zone and arrival of Watts saved him from these ideas and he found himself smiling by way of greeting.

Watts' youthful face lit into a joyful grin when his eyes fell on the man at the front of the room. His freckled cheeks burst into colour and his blue eyes shone.

"It's really you! I'm so happy to see you, sir." Within minutes he was across the room, shaking his hand. "When I heard you were released this morning I was hoping you would come back. It'll be just like old times again, sir."

"You idiot!" Zone slapped his palm to his brow. "What did I just tell you? Seifer is in custody of Balamb. He can't join the Wolves. Geez." Ridden with disdain for his partner, he shook his head. 

Something niggled at the back of Quistis' mind and she raised her head to consider her host. "What exactly is 'the Wolves'? Another independence group?"

From where he stood by Seifer Watts darted a look to his buddy. The child-like grin drifted off his face to be replaced by one of trepidation as he and Zone exchanged glances. 

Quistis lifted a brow when the room began to crackle with tension. This, of course, caused the mild curiosity to well in the pit of her stomach to something more akin to deep interest. The look on Watts' visage was quite interesting to be sure. Worthy of some serious probing. The SeeD in her rose to the fore, drowning out some of her exhaustion.

"Yeah, that's basically it." Zone replied, but it was evident he was hedging his answer. However, he was not daft. He recognized the inquisitive glint in Quistis' eyes and was bright enough to know she would not accept such a lukewarm response. "Here, let's all sit and I'll tell you what I can."

Since there were only three chairs, Watts opted to roost on the back of the sofa. He did not seem to mind the fact that underneath his butt lay several magazines and stained pair of boxers.

"The faction is officially called 'The Wolves of Renaissance'." Zone explained, gesturing with his hands as he talked. The crate rose to about his mid-chest so his arms frequently brushed the surface. "The main goal is to kick off Timber's rebirth, you know, as an independent state, free from dictatorship."

"How many members are there?" With a persuasive smile, Quistis did her best to encourage his infamous loose tongue along. If the right pressure was applied, she knew she would get what she wanted.

"Hundreds," he said, proudly, with a glance at Watts for affirmation. "Maybe more.

"After the war, there were so many split up, scattered all around the region. We had no hope of achieving anything that way. But when Athair came, he kind of managed to bring us all together, combine our dreams into one. This way we have a chance. Galbadia can't take us all on at once. And when the day comes, we're all going to send them running." He took a risk and turned to Seifer. "Hopefully by that time, you'll be there to celebrate with us. It's gonna be one hell of a rockin' party."

On the other side of the table, Seifer stretched and folded his arms behind his head. He grinned to show his appreciation. "Wouldn't miss it."

Quistis ignored him. "Who is Athair?" She honestly had never heard of the guy before.

"Oh, we don't know his real name. That's just what we call him. He's the leader of the Wolves. I've never met him in person but I hear he's quite influential. Alls I know is," he added, the Timber slur more prominent in his voice due to his rising excitement. "He's gonna put us back on the map. 'S just what we've been looking for."

"I see." 

Because her temples had resumed their cake-walk over her brain, she decided to call it a night. Since it did not appear as if they would be going anywhere anytime soon, she had plenty of time to interrogate her hosts further the next day. But right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. 

"I'd love to know more, but I'm feeling pretty zonked. I hope you'll excuse my poor manners but do you think you could, er, find a spot for us to crash? It's been a day." Hopelessly, she looked toward the sofa. _Oh, God._

"Of course! Yeah, sorry!" Zone bolted up out of his chair, waving his arms in front of his face. "I should've realized." Inwardly, he let out a massive sigh of relief to be out from under her direct gaze. "Um, why don't you take the bedroom? Watts and I can sleep out here."

"That sounds lovely." For the first time since departing Garden, her radiant smile was genuine. _Please let it be better than this._

It wasn't. What he called a bedroom was merely an extension of the living room, covered in the same nasty flooring and framed with the same infested walls. It was cleaner, she'd give it that. But instead of actual furniture, there were two sleeping bags stretched out on the floor. Protected only from the concrete by a single woollen rug of the most hideous brown she had ever seen. 

She told herself she could be sleeping on a bench in the cold and commanded a smile to her lips. Try as she might, she couldn't quite get this one to reach her eyes.

"Well, thanks again!" Her bright tone contrasted starkly with the feeling of dread climbing up her neck.

"Yeah, don't sweat it. If you need anything, we'll be out there." After exchanging several more pleasantries, Zone left the room, closing the curtain at his back.

The smile vanished from her face immediately. Her knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed onto the nearest sleeping bag, not caring who was there to see her at a weak moment. All she wanted to do now was to slip seamlessly into sleep.

"Pretty nice digs, huh?" Seifer grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at her, enjoying her discomfort. 

But she was hardly paying attention. With a groan of half pain, half ecstasy, she removed both of her shoes, placing them neatly on the floor next to her bag. She indulged in giving each one a full rub before stretching out her limbs and lying back on the nylon material. She reckoned it was better to err on the side of caution and avoid actually crawling inside. The air was tepid enough so she was not in any danger of freezing.

"And to think," Seifer continued, kicking off his own shoes and laying on his side across his own sleeping bag. He wanted to be able to see her reaction. "If you had only carried through with the bouncer, we could have been sleeping in an actual apartment."

Letting out another groan, she rolled onto her belly and buried her face in her arms. "For the last time, Seifer. Shut up. You're the most incorrigible human being I've ever met."

"Why, thank you, duchess. I'm honoured."

Too weak to respond, she gave in and let her heavy lids drift closed. The precious world of sleep was finally within her fingertips. _God bless this sleeping bag._ But before she lost her grasp on consciousness completely, she titled her head to address her charge.

"You'd better be here when I wake up, or so help me, you're going to wish you were never born."

She promptly fell asleep to the tune of his laughter.

In what seemed like five minutes later she awakened. Heavy with sleep her lids opened slowly, then squeezed shut again almost right away. Sunlight bored directly into her eyes from where she lay. Flipping over onto her back, she lifted an arm across her brow and tried again. This time her gaze landed on the ceiling. Or, rather, the plaster wallpapered in ugly stains and cobwebs.

"What the—." Abruptly she sat up, startled to find herself in an unfamiliar room. Especially of such low calibre. Then it all came back to her. 

On a muffled oath, she fell back down. Her head made a hollow sound as it hit the hard floor and she swore again, reaching up to soothe gentle fingers over the injured spot. What a brilliant start to her day. She wished it was already over.

With a wince, she rose again, fingers still working at the back of her cranium. She would now willingly run naked through the streets of Timber for an aspirin. 

Blinking in the streaming light coming from a tiny window up above, she wondered what time it was. A glance at her watch was fruitless as she recalled it had been damaged during her swim in the loch the previous day. Had it only been a day?

Quistis dropped her hands and surveyed the room, somewhat bemusedly. What the heck was she supposed to do now? She should probably put in another call to Garden. This time she would demand to speak to Squall. And boy was he going to get an earful. Then she would talk to Xu. A feral smile traced her exhausted face. She wondered if it was possible to send out a ray-bomb over the phone lines.

As she scanned the room she picked up on things she had been to tired to notice the night before. There was a small table in the corner with a telephone, and next to that sat an impressive-looking personal computer, of a model she knew had just come out recently. 

A line formed between her brows. Who lived in a place like this but owned a PC like that? The answer was obvious.

Something else was bothering her about the room. If only she could switch her brain on to full power. Shaking her head, she took another examination of the contents. It was then she clued in.

Snapping her head to the right she stared at the spot where Seifer Almasy was supposed to be sleeping in mutual discomfort.

"Fuck!" 


	7. Running to Stand Still

"The hardest tumble a man can make is to fall over his own bluff." ~ Ambrose Bierce
    
    **Running to Stand Still**
    
    _Singing Ha La La La De Day_
    
    _Sweet the sin_
    
    _But bitter the taste in my mouth_
    
    _I see seven towers_
    
    _But I only see onw way out_
    
    _You got to cry without weeping_
    
    _Talk without speaking_
    
    _Scream without raising your voice_ (U2)

"That's bullshit."

"Xu." Squall's head snapped over in her direction, brows drawn. Though he did not appear startled by her discourteous manner, he was not at all impressed.

The woman merely shrugged. "Just calling it like it is." Her attention returned to the Esthar politician. "Forgive my candour, but why should we believe you when we have evidence to prove the contrary?" 

Of their own will, her arms crossed in front of her petite frame. Steadily, her dark eyes held the older man within a searing gaze.

Waylon Murphy shifted in his reclining position. With a sigh, he sat up and bent his legs so that he could lean forward and address her directly. "I'd be interested in seeing some of that evidence, if you don't mind. As far as we can tell Galbadia has had world domination on its primary agenda for the past twenty-odd years."

"And Esthar hasn't?" 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Squall lift a hand to cut her off but she deliberately ignored him. Xu had taken a dislike to the defence minister the from very moment had walked through the door of Balamb's head office. He was callous, self-aggrandizing, and chauvinistic. She considered herself an excellent judge of character and if it were up to her, she would not have agreed to the meeting. But it wasn't and he was there, sitting before them as if he owned the place. There was no way she was going to further that impression by kowtowing.

"From the instant the war ended we've had Galbadia under strict supervision. There is no way Caraway's government could have planned such an attack with our forces breathing down its neck. Not to mention Esthar's," she added pointedly.

"Perhaps you need to question the loyalty of your forces. Our men have reason to believe Galbadia was responsible for the bombing yesterday." Believing the conversation over, he settled back in his chair, arms folded behind his head and legs stretched beneath the desk.

Her teeth clenched, grinded. "Our forces are fine. Have you ever given a thought to the idea that your—."

"Xu!" Squall's voice was louder this time. His eyes now held stern reproach. Sometimes he felt like he was running a day care instead of an international military corps. "Why don't you go make us all some coffee?"

The harshness in his gaze did not dissipate, though his words were pleasant enough. His meaning was plain, however, and she was not slow in picking it up. The raised-brow look she sent him warned him he was in for an earful once the Esthar minister left. He didn't doubt it. But right now all that mattered was smoothing over the wrinkles in Waylon Murphy's perfectly pressed uniform.

Chin high and features haughty Xu spun on her heel and sauntered toward the door. "Certainly, _Commander_ Leonhart."

When he thought she had moved beyond hearing range, he turned toward the other man with an apologetic expression. "Please forgive my assistant." He shifted a glance at the open door before deciding it was safe enough to continue. "She's nothing more than a glamorised secretary and hardly represents the will of Balamb Garden."

At that, Murphy let out a hearty laugh. In one motion he was sitting up and bracing his elbows on his knees. "Not a problem, son." He chuckled again and offered Squall a conspiratorial wink. "We all have our troubles now and then. You've certainly got yourself a feisty one there." 

The innuendo was as obvious as his attempt at camaraderie. He was selling hard. It was too bad Squall wasn't buying. 

He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. "Yes, well, let's get back to business."

_Glamorised secretary,_ Xu fumed as she shoved the filter back into the machine. A tiny muscle above her left eyelid began to twitch with violence. She punched at the button to start the coffee brewing with her fist. She would rather have thrown it across the room. _Who the hell does he think he is?_

Her fingers drummed on the small table as she willed her temper to remain under reasonable control. So help her, the second the Great Estharian Ass stepped out of the office she was going to show her darling commander exactly what she thought of that statement. _Glamorised secretary, huh? _Her nails drove half-moon-shaped trenches into her palms. _How would he like to be delusional janitor? _

It was that moment that Zell Dincht chose to enter the front office, his face a mask of panic. 

"Hey, Xu, is Squall busy?" Nervous energy bounced off of him as he practically leaped over the floor to the inner door. "I _really_ need to talk to him." 

The conflagration in her eyes as she set her gaze upon him had him hopping back two full steps. If he didn't have a crisis on his hands he would have been out the door and running for cover. No one in their right mind wanted to deal with a pissed-off Xu. To him, she was terrifying enough when in a pleasant frame of mind.

"He's with a member of the Esthar government," she told him between gritted teeth. There was so much fury behind the words, Zell wondered her tongue didn't send off sparks. 

"Will he be long? This is an emergency!"

Xu jerked a shoulder, marching to her desk and plonking down hard in her chair. "I wouldn't know. I'm just a glamorised secretary…" Her voice trailed off as an idea sifted through the rage in her brain. When it began to formalize, her lips curved in a genuine grin. Vengeance was truly a lovely notion.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come back later." She rested more comfortably in her seat and crossed her legs, playing her role to the hilt. 

Inspiration struck and she leaned forward to glide open the top drawer. After a little rummaging she pulled out two coloured bottles and held them up in triumph. It was poetic, really, that she remembered them and had hung on to them for so long.

"What do you think, Dincht, I mean, Zell?" Xu displayed the bottles to him in one hand. "Passion pink or tropical splash?"

Bewildered by her sudden switch from seething to congenial, the young male could do nothing but gape. Not only was she actually smiling at him but she was asking his advice. The top administrator who had only ever bequeathed him with a cursory glance. And that was only if he got in her way.

"What do you mean?"

"Nail polish." She spoke with patience. "I just want to know what colour you think is better. Don't you think mine are a little too bare?" Waving her free hand in the air in front of his face, she wiggled her fingers for him to see.

Eyes wide, he began to back away. "Uh, I, er, I wouldn't know." His back slammed into the wall next to the elevator door. Frantic, his hand felt for the button to call the car. "I'll just, uh, come back later. When you're less busy. Yeah, that sounds good." 

He nodded vigorously then almost fell to his knees in relief when the recognizable ping of the elevator hit his ears. "Thanks!"

After he had departed Xu continued to frown at her unpainted nails with the same solemnity she used when contemplating battle strategy. "Maybe I should just get a manicure." 

When the telephone on her desk jangled she ignored it and reached back into the drawer for a nail file. The tips were much to jagged for her liking. She should be ashamed of herself for letting them get into such a state. Clucking her tongue she proceeded to round them off as best she could. It was despicable, really. The telephone continued to ring as she worked, not paying it a single thought.

"Are you going to answer that?" Squall stood in the doorway, one brow arched.

"What?" Xu looked up at him, a brilliant smile on her face. When his remained blank she clued in. "Oh, the telephone." She shrugged. "If you'd like."

The two exchanged steady glances before he backed down and turned back inside his office. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." When the receiver emitted another angry rattle she flicked the switch for the speaker so that she could continue her task. "Balamb Garden, Xu speaking."

"Hello." Even across the lines, she could pick up on the caller's hostility. "You sound pleased with yourself."

"Hey, girlfriend!" Dropping her nail file, she tucked her hair away from her face. Idly, she wondered what she'd look like with a pixie cut. "What's up?"

"Oh, not a lot. Just the usual, routine stuff going on here. I lost Seifer, but you know, it's no big deal. Everything is going just grand." 

"What?" Quickly, she leaned across the desk to grab the receiver, turning off the speaker. All thoughts of aesthetics were immediately wiped from her mind. "How?"

"You know, Xu, I realize you were narked about the whole blind date thing, but a night with Garret, the Conceited SeeD, really doesn't justify the hell I've gone through during the past twenty-four hours." The woman's voice was deadpan.

"Quis, when was the last time you saw him? From what it sounded like last night, everything was fine." One-handed, she snatched a pen from the metal holder and started to write on a yellow-lined pad.

"I guess you could call it that." Quistis sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I really don't know, Xu. When I woke up this morning he was gone. I think he might have escaped with Zone."

"Zone? Of former Timber Owl fame?"

"Right on the head. We spent the night at his place, I didn't think there was any harm in it." She shook her head and closed her eyes. "Mistake number twenty-six."

"Timber's closed off. He must still be in the vicinity."

"Most likely. I've got Watts here, think he knows more than he's letting on. Shouldn't be too hard to sway him." Craning her neck, she slid open the curtain to make sure her captive was indeed in the other room. There was no way she could afford to lose him as well.

"Damn, Quistis. I had no idea this was all going to go down." The other woman expressed, regret deepening her pitch.

Against her will, she found herself relenting a little. It was not exactly Xu's fault Timber was bombed. No one could have predicted the incident. Nonetheless, she needed someone to blame.

"I think something more complex is going on here than anyone could have anticipated. Even if I do manage to find him, the battle isn't going to be easy. Is there any way you could send back up?"

Silence stretched out over the line and when Xu did answer, Quistis could tell she was not any more thrilled with the current situation at Garden than she was.

"Hell, girl. I'd join you myself if the board stopped tracking my every move for a nanosecond. Bastards. There's nothing I'd love more than to drag that asshole back here on a leash."

Nodding, she released the curtain. "Don't I know it. Thanks anyway."

"Look, Quistis, we can always send a headhunting mission in later when things have calmed down. Why don't you hightail it? I can send the Rag to meet you in Dollet or something. The board can screw itself."

The idea had merit. More than that, it had fantasy potential. For crying out loud, she did not even have her Guardians with her. She would not be called a coward for backing out. It was the smart thing to do. Logical. It had Quistis Trepe written all over it. 

Yet, just as she was about to concur with her friend, the SeeD in her rose up in protest. Could she really just leave him there? With all of this ferment simmering beneath the cracks? The answer was plain. She had a duty to fulfil, an obligation to the world, and to herself. In all her life she had yet to run away from a fight. She was not going to start now.

"No. No, I have to find out what's going on. Something is rising, I can feel it. Something bigger than a suicide bomb. I'm not leaving until I've figured out what it is."

"You know where I am." Xu's voice sounded resigned.

"That I do." Quistis let herself laugh. "Wanna trade?"

The other woman let out a groan. "Don't rub it in."

"You know you love your job."

"With all my soul."

Grinning, Quistis leaned against the table, twirling the cord with a finger. "Bleeding Heart."

"Ice Queen."

They both chuckled, enjoying the playful banter for a moment before returning to the real world.

"I'll call," promised Quistis

"I'll give Mr. Type A the heads up." Xu paused. "Be careful."

As soon as she had hung up the telephone, Quistis made her way back toward the living area of the cellar space. To be blunt, the place looked even worse by daylight. But none of that mattered now.

She stood outside the curtain and straightened her uniform, her eyes locked on Watts' hunched frame. He sat at the table, chomping on the better part of a sandwich and reading what appeared to be a comic book. The freckles on his forehead stood out in high relief as he widened his eyes at an exciting moment in the story. There was no way anyone could have mistaken the man for a plotting anarchist. But Quistis was not anyone.

Tired, weak, and hungry she was not willing to trust the fellow for a heartbeat. No matter how innocent and eager his nature. Enough was enough.

Sliding into the seat across from him, she reached over and pilfered the other half of his sandwich. Cheese and mayonnaise. Her stomach let out an appreciative rumble. Since the last thing she could remember eating was the burger she had picked up from the diner, half a cheese sandwich seemed like a banquet. The bread was dry and the mayo gave off an interesting odour but she spared such petty things little notice.

Only when she had polished it off and her stomach was appeased did she look Watts in the eye. He had glanced up from his reading when she'd snatched half his lunch. He now watched her with a mix of apprehension and interest.

"I think it's time you and I had a little chat," she informed him. "You are going to tell me everything you know about these 'Wolves of Renaissance'. And you are going to tell me now." 

Seifer slouched against the wall, glaring dangerously ahead. Running a hand through his hair, he swore. Swore again when he returned both hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. Back up against the wall, he directed his next curse toward the man who lounged in a plastic chair on the other side of a round table. 

"Revolution. You're fucking insane."

The lighting in the small room was muted, coming from a tiny oil lamp on the wall behind him. It was impossible to see the man's face clearly. A fact that pissed Seifer off. He liked to know what someone looked like before he fractured his skull. A glance at the Tank who guarded the door warned him not to attempt that pleasure anytime soon.

The man stamped out his cigarette in the opaque silver tray at his left. "How ordinary. Pity, I had hoped your mind would be of a higher calibre. Perhaps, I was mistaken." 

His voice was bland, almost devoid of any verbal inflection whatsoever. It was a voice that would be impossible to trace, and equally impossible to forget.

"Yeah, well. I ain't too fond of you either." Yanking himself away from concrete, Seifer gestured violently. "Looks like you're not the only one who made a mistake."

"Does that mean you don't wish do join our group?" The man gracefully slid another cigarette out of the pack lying at his other side. He lifted it to his lips and the Tank stepped forward to provide a light. "It really would be a shame, you know."

"And why is that?" Seifer matched disdain with disdain.

"Well, I see it as really the better out of two choices." Leaning back in his chair, the man blew smoke in Seifer's direction. His tone was now conversational, open. "Life or death."

Cocking an eyebrow, Seifer crossed his arms. "So it's either join you and your socialist gang-bangers or die."

"I would never put it quite so crass but, if you like, yes. I knew you would catch on quickly."

The man was starting to do more than just piss him off. That damn impassive voice was getting to him. It was worse that Leonhart's.

"What if I don't like your options?"

The room was silent for a few pulses before the man broke out in dry, humourless laughter. "Oh, and I'm sure you find that quite amusing." All of a sudden, he was sitting upright, cigarette smashed into the ashtray and voice a dark, low calm. "What will it be, Mr. Almasy?"


	8. Under Pressure

"After all, to make a beautiful omelette, you have to break an egg." ~ Spanish Proverb.
    
    **Under Pressure**
    
    _Chippin' around - kick my brains around the floor_
    
    _These are the days it never rains but it pours_
    
    _People on streets - people on streets_
    
    _It's the terror of knowing_
    
    _What this world is about_
    
    _Watching some good friends_
    
    _Screaming let me out_
    
    _Pray tomorrow - gets me higher _(Queen & David Bowie)

Puttering around her small but immaculate kitchen Mrs. Banagher began to prepare lunch for the two hungry boys that would be trooping home within the hour. Although she was predominantly left alone in the house most days, as her husband was kept hopping in the pub he owned and managed, she managed to ward off the loneliness by keeping herself occupied in the culinary arts. She was known throughout Timber for her skills with a basting pan and was often called upon to make on dish or another for various events and get-togethers. But her family always came first. 

Her husband was a modern man in most respects and did not expect her to have a four course meal ready by the time he staggered in the door at night. And if he ever had, she would have quickly changed that line of thinking with the back of her hand. Cooking relaxed her. It was a cathartic experience. She had complete control over how much seasoning to add, or how long a to stir a rue. If a new recipe went well than it was by her efforts alone. The outcome could be predicted and judged. It was a stark contrast to the volatility of life in modern day Timber. The Banagher clan had not been left out of the most recent turmoil.

She sighed as she lifted a skillet from the top cupboard, reached underneath for the oil. Though she had promised herself not to fret any further, her thoughts drifted toward her daughter. She had done her best to raise her into a bright young woman. Disciplined, educated, and loved her as much as any mother possibly could. More. Just like a complex recipe she had followed a deliberate and careful tread, deviating when necessary, but sticking to the essential ingredients. Raising a daughter had been an adventure but one she had accepted with gratitude. She had not expected to be perfect, but they had weathered each tempest together. Now, after seventeen years, she could not think where she had gone so completely wrong.

Selecting the best looking egg from the carton, she was about to crack it over the pan when she detected a firm knocking at the front door. She frowned and glanced at the stove clock in distraction. Pressing a hand to her oversized apron and the other to the wisps of hair falling over her forehead, she made her way across the room. The sight that met her eyes was not an expected one.

Attired in a wrinkled uniform, blond hair pulled away from her pale face in a loose ponytail that left tendrils dangling, the woman on her stoop looked plain worn out. But her posture was straight and her eyes were alert. Despite all outward appearances, Mrs. Banagher instinctively knew her visitor had a pressing reason for being there.

"Hello," Quistis greeted the woman and smiled out of politeness. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. My name is Quistis Trepe, I'm a SeeD with Balamb Garden. I've been told you have information regarding the resistance faction going by the name of-."

"Bah! I'm wanting nothing to do with that. You can tell your superiors this house is free and clear of any such nonsense. We want only to be left in peace." Annoyed, she would have shut the door had Quistis not stepped forward and in the way.

"I'm glad to hear that, Mrs. Banagher. It'll make my job a lot easier." Deciding to switch tactics, Quistis gestured to the teenage boy cowering behind her. "You see, they've kidnapped a, er, um," she searched for an appropriate epithet. "A citizen of Balamb. And Watts told me you might be able to help out."

"He did, did he?" The older woman narrowed her eyes and looked over Quistis' shoulder at the lad shamefacedly staring at the ground. "Well, I don't know all he said, but I doubt I can be much use. I lost my daughter to that, that cult of theirs. I was against the entire thing from the start. What Timber needs is collectivisation, not a bunch of hot-headed rebels setting fires and starting wars."

"Wars?" Darting a glance at Watts, Quistis raised her brows. The more she heard about this group, the less she liked it. "With all due respect, ma'am, I may not be from the area, but I plan on doing my very best to get to the bottom of this. Whatever information you could provide would be helpful, I'm sure. Right now, I know next to nothing." Shrugging her shoulders helplessly, she left herself open.

A light appeared in the woman's eyes and her face stretched into a soft smile. "I remember you now. You're a friend of that Rinoa-girl's, aren't you? Can't believe it took me so long to work it out. I never forget a face. Come on in, love. Take a seat here at the table. You look like you could use a hot cup of tea paired with a long nap."

"Yes, thank you." Smiling in relief, Quistis entered the home. She was immediately caught by the simple domesticity that seeped into every corner of the room. Prickles of nostalgia jabbed at her insides. Something sweet and wonderful was baking in the oven.

"You might come in as well, ye hooligan. Don't bother hiding your face, I've seen it plain enough. What would your mother think now?" Tutting, the mistress of the abode ushered the reluctant man inside. "It makes me blood boil to speak of it. The poor woman, in her grave, while you run around like a mad cockatrice, thinking nothing can touch you. A more hot-headed pack I've never seen, the whole lot."

The two took their places at the wooden table. The surface was already laid out for lunch, a cheery pot of blossoms in the centre. Without realizing it, Quistis relaxed into the checked padding of the chair and watched her hostess bustle around the counter.

"Really, there's no need to go to any trouble. I just wanted to ask you a few questions." Worrying the inside of her cheek, Quistis looked apologetic.

"It's no trouble at all. Not for the woman who's torn this yob away from the ruffians they call freedom fighters these days." Though she smiled, Quistis detected the bitterness in the woman's words. "Though how you went about separating him from his partner in foolishness is beyond even my knowing. The two are lucky to be alive if you ask me." She carried a small pot over to the table before going back for the cups and a brightly patterned tin. Once done, Mrs. Banagher sat herself in the seat next to her female guest. "We'll just wait for that to mash while we chat. My own tyrants will be barging in soon enough but I've plenty of time to spare for some intelligent company."

Unsure of where to begin now that the conversation had swivelled in her direction, Quistis toyed with the edge of the blue-and-white cotton tablecloth. Watts had not been able to tell her much, despite his previous avowal of a specialization in espionage. But she was certain after her swift interrogation that he had been telling her the truth. Her rapid-fire questions had not given him a chance to come up with an ulterior story. He sincerely did not know where Seifer was located. Which meant one of two things. Either the prisoner had left of his own accord, taking Zone with him, or he had been taken himself, as a result of some plot Watts had not been let in on. An odd occurrence indeed. As far as she could tell the two Timberians were of sole mind. Yet, as the station was shut down and the gates were closed, Quistis had no clue as to where Seifer thought he could run. She didn't think he was obtuse enough to think he could get far given the current circumstances. Unless he knew of a secret tunnel, he was as stuck as she. Hence, she was leaning toward some kind of scheme within the Wolves. It was her only real lead.

Feeling two pairs of eyes resting expectantly upon her, Quistis raised her head and tried to sort through her thoughts for the best way to broach an apparently sensitive subject. Watts had assured her that if anyone knew what to do, it would be Mrs. Banagher, the former leader of the Forest Foxes back before the war. "I take it you don't agree with Athair's plans."

"Athair?" Mrs. Banagher snorted. "He's barely in long-pants. And he's not even a native. I don't agree and I've made my thoughts clear to the rest of the town. For all the good that did."

"You've met him then?" Quistis pressed, leaning forward. This was the first solid clue she'd had and she grasped for the line with both hands. "Where is he from?"

Shaking her head, the woman reached over to remove the lid of the tin. "That I haven't but I've heard enough from my daughter and this one to draw my own conclusions. Read his articles in the circulars that go round as well. Pure rubbish. Have a biscuit. I made them fresh this morning." She nudged the tin forward and began to turn over cups.

The aroma of home-made pastry was too much for Quistis to resist. Her stomach growled approvingly as she took her first delicate bite. Soft and chewy, it was a panacea to her empty belly. The half sandwich she'd pilfered that morning had done nothing to appease her tortured appetite. She took another bite and nearly sighed. If she wasn't careful, she'd gobble the entire batch.

Her hostess smiled beamed and nodded. "Good, good. Have another. My boys are spoiled quite enough." Passing out saucers and offering cream, she spoke with a touch a pride. 

"I'd like to see some of those articles, if you have them handy."

"Sure and I put the last in the drawer with the rest of the propaganda. For that's all it is," declared Mrs. Banagher, taking a sip of her tea. "Reckon I could fill a scrapbook with the bloody waste of it. Don't see how they'll do you much good, though. Just talk of change and promises of an independent future. Bah! As if we citizens haven't been working for that these twenty years. As if the blood lost means nothing."

"That's not true!" Shaking, Watts abruptly stood. His face flushed and his hands clenched. "It does mean something. But this is the only way we can accomplish their dreams. Our dreams. Don't you see? Everything Athair's saying is about making the battles of the past worth while. If we give up now, they've won. And-and-and I won't! Ever!"

Stunned by his outburst, Quistis looked to the other woman who regarded the male with pursed lips and raised brows. "Nor will I. This is a fight worth dying for and that's a fact. But I won't join ranks alongside a leader too cowardly to show his face. I won't have children die blindly for a cause just because some organization passed out a few flyers." Her features softened and she set down her cup. "Can you honestly tell me, lad, your faceless leader cares for this land as much as you and I?"

There was no sound for a few heavy beats as Watts considered her question. Everything he had believed in was closing around him. The woman had been surrogate mother, teacher, and general to him for as long as he could recall. It had shocked him, at first when she had refused to join the Wolves. He had been unable to contain himself with excitement after he and Zone had received news of the new faction. They both had been so sure they would win this time. Galbadia was in the middle of a dire crisis. A united front was certain to knock the state flat on its arse. But Mrs. Banagher had scoffed at their enthusiasm, said the last thing Timber needed was bunch of marauding superheroes led by a foreign alliance. And that had been that.

"I-I don't know." Defeated, he fell back into his chair.

"I know, son, I know." On a sigh, the woman turned to the other occupant. She lifted the teapot to refill Quistis' cup. "Now, why don't you have another biscuit and tell me the real reason you're here?"

Accepting the hospitality and nibbling on the edge of her third pastry, Quistis prepared to disclose the entire muddled tale.

Irvine's smile was smooth and his tone congenial as he patted his friend's shoulder. "Don't you worry about a thing, buddy." He looked over at the bench whereupon the source of the other man's woes sat waiting impatiently. "I can handle them, no problem. Practically already taken care of. Women are my specialty." He winked and dropped his hand.

"Thanks, Irvine. The sooner you get 'em out of here, the better. I can already see my rank doing a crash landing." Vibrating in agitation, Zell clenched and unclenched his hands. "Man, if Squall or Cid were to find out…" His voice trailed off, as if the possibilities were too terrorizing to speak aloud.

"Like I said, it's as good as accomplished. Just watch the ole Kinneas charm in action." With a backward wave, Irvine sauntered toward the fountain. A wide smile spread across his expressive features in welcome.

"I hope so," muttered Zell. He slumped against the wall across from the directory where he had a good view of the open corridor. Prayed with all he had that Irvine was right and it would soon be just a bad memory. The girls would leave, disappointed but accepting, and he could go on as if he had never signed a petition in his life.

From his vantage point he watched the other man tip his hat in greeting. He was too far to hear what was being said but he saw the two girls exchange glances then start to giggle. For the first time he was able to fully appreciate his comrade's seemingly natural skills of flirtation. He figured he owed the guy one for all the dark thoughts he'd directed his way. When the blonde twirled a lock of hair around her finger and shifted over so Irvine could sit down, Zell relaxed enough to smile. He ran a hand over his face and let out the tension in a whoosh of air. Irvine was a guy one could count on.

"I'm Ginny and this is my friend Isobel," the blonde with the peaches-and-cream complexion introduced. "We're members of the CAIBSEC, put in charge of the Balamb chapter just last week."

"Isn't that exciting?" the redhead on the other side of the bench bubbled, crinkling her blue eyes. "I've always wanted to travel."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you did." Resting one arm on the back of the bench, Irvine turned his lanky frame so that he could face both at the same time. "We don't get many ladies of your nature round these parts this time of year."

"And what nature would that be, Mr. Kinneas?" Ginny titled her head and widened her already huge brown eyes.

Irvine's grin grew bold. He'd pegged them right away and played his cards to suit. "Why, you both are lovelier than the most delicate of angels. A fella could lose his head around a mere glimpse of one of you, let alone two at once. I'd have to be the luckiest man alive for Hyne to bless me with your presence for one heartbeat." He let their giggles settle over him before continuing. His head dropped onto his open palm and he dimpled at them, sighing dreamily. "I'm willin' to bet your hearts are just as sweet as your faces. Like the first hints of sunlight on a cloudy morn."

"Really, Mr. Kinneas?" About ready to sigh herself, Isobel leaned forward. "That's the prettiest thing anyone's ever said to me." The tiniest intimation of an accent broke through as she spoke.

"Now that's gotta be a lie. I'm sure you girls have droves of men beating down your door back home. If not then there's definitely something wrong with them. Where did y'all say you were from?"

"Will you help us?" Ignoring the question, Ginny touched a hand to his sleeve. "We want to make a good impression on the committee but we haven't had much luck yet. No one seems to want to listen." Her eyes filled with desolation and cast downward to her lap. "We'd hate to be sent home so soon."

"Sure. I'm always up for helpin' out the underdog." Straightening his shoulders, Irvine gestured dramatically. "That's the very reason I became SeeD. To assist the underprivileged in their time of need. I'm as friendly as they come." His expression grew solemn and lowered his hand from where he had placed it against his heart. "Why don't you tell me what this group of yours is all about?"

"Oh, wow! That's so awful nice of you. I had no idea there were people like you and Mr. Dincht still left in this world. Did you, Bel?" The female's ponytail flicked in his face when she turned to address her friend.

"Nu-uh." Without pause, the red-head thrust out a clipboard and her awe-filled gaze became one of professional formality. "Sign here, if you please."

Chuckling, Irvine took the petition and tipped back his hat to peruse the writing. "What do we have here? I ain't signing my life away or anything, eh?"

"Don't be silly." Ginny giggled again but this time he caught the forced nature of the sound. One brow raised he glanced up, whereupon both girls shot him twin dazzling smiles.

"Now let's see…" Looking back down at the page before him and tapping the little pen that dangled off a string, Irvine debated his next plan of action. His cavalier demeanour diminished when he spotted Zell's scrawled signature at the top of the list. He moved slightly away and relaxed his back against the bench, propping a foot on the opposite knee. "What does CAIBSEC stand for?"

"Commission Against the Inhumane Breeding and Slaying of Endangered Creatures," the girls said in unison. Both brows raised this time Irvine was about to drawl out a reply when Ginny cut him off.

"We're out to stop the Gardens from their cruel treatment of the planet's natural species. There are chapters in every state and we have ties to a party in Deling running for office in the next election. But Isobel and I were entrusted with the most important mission of all."

"That's right." Isobel nodded, eyes narrowed. "We're here to shut down Balamb Garden completely unless it agrees to comply with our demands and stop using sentient beings as training tools.

Irvine goggled. "Shut down Balamb?" His foot fell to the floor and he could do nothing but stare, suave veneer all but gone. "Ladies, you've got to be kidding. It's-it's just not going to happen."

"Oh yeah? Show 'im Gin."

Reaching over the blonde lifted up the top page to display the collected signatures. "So far we've had over two hundred people respond positively. We met with the mayor this morning and he was fully supportive of our alternative program."

Flummoxed, Irvine did not know what to make of the whole thing. Was this a con or were they actually legitimate. His eyes darted from one female to the next as he cast about for a rebuttal. It was crazy.

"Don't ya think we could work out like a more cooperative agreement? I mean, shutting down…" He tugged at his collar. "Sounds a bit drastic."

"We don't think so and obviously neither do these people. There is no place for people like you in this world. Hyne does not treat blasphemy lightly. The torture must be stopped and it must be stopped now!" Irvine began to sweat. He now had two very incensed glaring at him with electricity crackling in the depths of their pupils. "So, it's up to you. You can either beg forgiveness and join our mission or face the demons of eternal damnation and continue with your heartless slaughter." Now not only did he have enraged women breathing down his neck, but the weight of his immortal soul.

Dang his guilty conscience.

Teapot emptied and cups rinsing in the soap filled sink, Mrs. Banagher sat back in her chair. "So you're pretty sure this charge of yours is with Zone at the group's headquarters."

"Yes. That's the logical conclusion. Whether he went willingly or unwillingly is irrelevant." Stomach full of cake and the cheese and pepper omelette her host had served for lunch, Quistis rested her elbows on the table. Now that she had caffeine happily buzzing through her system she could approach the frustrating matter with greater breadth and serenity.

"And you need to return him to your control as soon as possible."

Quistis nodded. "Garden cannot allow word to get out of his disappearance at this time. The repercussions would be…unthinkable."

"As I say, I don't know much about their whereabouts or future plans. Just what my daughter chooses to report in her posts." The woman closed her eyes to sort through the information. For a few moments all was quiet except for the frequent fidgeting of Watts at Quistis's right. Abruptly, she lifted her heavy lids and zeroed her stare in on Quistis. "How far are you willing to go?"

Realizing the gravity of what she was asking Quistis kept her response just as succinct. "All the way."

"Glad to hear it." All of a sudden, the woman whooped and leaned across the table to squeeze the younger female's hand. The laugh lines on her face wrinkled in delight. "I've been rarin' for a good fight these odd months. This is just the excuse I been looking for. Now, Watts here, he knows where they'd take him. If I get him to lead me there 'twould be no trouble getting inside. The tricky part'll be getting out again." Mrs. Banagher grinned and squeezed harder before releasing her hand and leaping up. "Oh, it will be grand like, it will. Just as if it were old times."

Caught up in the other woman's enthusiasm Quistis couldn't help but smile and rise similarly, although with considerably more composure. "Thank you so much for your help, but I could not possibly impose any further. If you could show me the articles and perhaps some of your daughters emails, that would be more than enough."

"You're not thinking I'll just sit back when there's a battle to be had, now are you?" Hands on hips Mrs. Banagher stared her down. Though she was shorter than the SeeD, she still managed to appear imposing against the backdrop of a homey kitchen and merry yellow curtains. "Ask the lad, and he'll tell you. If there's something worth doing, it's worth doing full out. I'm not just doing this for you, but for my home, for Timber. I've been wanting to get to the bottom of these 'Wolves' since the first one set foot on our soil. The people of the town shouldn't be focussed on one man, but on the unity the land gives us. It's ours. Not Athair's and certainly not the Galbadians'. I'm going to be in the front lines when we take it back."

"And so am I." Inspired by her firm stance, Watts stood up as well. He pounded a fist into his open hand. "You're right. This is our country. I'll-I'll tell you everything I know." His eyes glittered with a resolve that made Quistis do a double-take. She tried to match the determined young man beside her with the nervous boy she'd met on the White SeeD ship half a year ago. Found they could not be reconciled. 

She watched as the two, young man and middle-aged woman shared silent vows. Suddenly, it smacked into her, like a blast of air-conditioning on a humid day. The passion these people had for their home was astounding. At first she had not been able to fathom the idea of it. But now she realized, on a startling current of homesickness, that she would do the same was Balamb in danger. The island was her home, her refuge. The blue waters and the green forests. The rugged mountains and the quaint streets. The weathered fishermen coming in after a day's labour, the children zipping around on their t-boards. She would fight for its freedom. No matter what the cost.

However she felt she should still make another attempt to put off the woman. This was SeeD business, after all. But the mistress of the house once more spurned her feeble excuses with a shake of her head. 

"I'll hear none of it. It better not be on account of my age your turning away my assistance."

"Of course not. That never occurred to me. But--."

"But nothing. Besides they'd suspect you the minute you rapped on the door." Picking up her apron from where she'd placed it on the table, she re-tied it around her waist and moved to the sink. "Now sit back down while Watts helps me with the dishes and we'll discuss our plans. I wonder if my husband still has that surveillance equipment." She grinned to herself as she dunked her hands under water and gazed out the window. "There's a fine thought. I hope my boys didn't trouble you too much during dinner."

Quistis looked skyward then gave up and returned to her seat. There was no point in arguing further. She did not have the heart. In truth, she was grateful. Balamb would not be sending any crews her way unless she could prove urgent need. Her mission was a Garden-sponsored one. Which meant the institution was paying in full. The less salaries on pay-roll the better as far as the board was concerned.

"Not at all," she said pleasantly. "They were quite well-behaved for most children their age."

"Ah, well, wait until bedtime. That's when the real fun begins." Mrs. Banagher turned her head to wink. "They seemed quite taken with you."

"You're kidding." Quistis shook her head. ""I've never been very good with young ones. I felt completely out of my element." She offered a self-deprecating laugh.

"Then you don't give yourself enough credit. Believe me, if they were a few years older, they'd have been arm-wrestling at the table for the chance to sit next to you."

Laughing again, Quistis decided not to comment. She couldn't remember ever having such a sincere, innocent conversation with an older woman. Open and friendly, Mrs. Banagher represented more than a useful ally. She had welcomed her into her home with great hospitality. Forced her to eat as much of her home-cooking as she could manage, listened to her tale like an equal, trusted her with her children, and offered her a room for as long as she remained in the area. And now, she was giving her companionship. Camaraderie. Warmth. Funny how after all this time it was here Quistis would find the mother she had always wanted.

"Thank you." It came out quietly, and with more heart than she had intended.

The woman turned from instructing Watts on how to properly dry off a cup and smiled. In her eyes Quistis saw compassion and understanding. Her soul yearned.

"Your welcome, me darling. Now let's see about fetching those missives."

"So, how did it go?"

Giving one last wave to the girls as they walked down the hall and toward the front gate of the academy, Irvine turned on his heel and began to stroll away. "Just like I said it would. Not a hitch."

"Really?" Suspicious, Zell followed him when he turned left away from the front foyer. "Then how come I heard you say you'd meet them tomorrow?" He stopped as a new idea dawned on him. His mouth slid open. "You picked 'em up, didn't you? You asked them out. The Psycho Twins. Are you insane?"

Irvine stopped, swung around, his hat riding low on his head. "I didn't ask them out, all right? Just forget about it."

"You are such a liar." Running to catch up, Zell continued to speak with incredulity. "Geeze. I can't believe you sometimes. Have you no control? Sure they look cute and all, but man, they're like, like really scary, freaky, psychotic demons inside. Didn't you hear them? They're nuts! They get a guy's head all mess up so he doesn't know what he's doing and then WHAM! They hit you where it hurts. Like trying to get me kicked out. They're evil, dude. Eeevvvviiiiilllllll."

"Enough Zell." The other man headed down the entry to the cafeteria. He was hungry. He had skipped breakfast and couldn't think on an empty stomach. Besides, he had heard through the Garden gossip grind there was a special on mashed potatoes today. "I'm not going out with either of them. Cool your jets." Entering the refectory, he picked up the spicy aroma of chilli. 

"Why the heck are you meeting them, then?"

Mumbling under his breath Irvine headed toward a table near the back. As rapidly as it had come, his appetite had disappeared. The man's incessant exclamations were giving him a headache.

"What was that?"

Falling into an empty chair, Irvine slumped over the table and bowed his head.

"What?" Zell plonked down opposite.

"I said, I'm taking them up to Cid." Irate, he glared, then coughed and looked away, moving his shoulders up and down.

For the second time in less than five minutes, Zell's jaw hung to his toes. Scraping it off the glass tabletop, he gasped loudly, drawing the attention of several cadets at a nearby table. Seeing it was just Zell, whose antics were a regular fixture, they only paused a few seconds before returning to their own business. "You, what? I thought you said it was taken care of!"

"It is. You don't have to worry about anything. It's all on my head."

"You bet it is! Geeze." Shaking his head, he slouched. "What happened?" Although he already had a fairly good idea. So much for the man who understood all women. The ultimate lady-killer. More like Mr. Soft Touch. "I knew I should have gone to Squall."

"And had your rank lowered?" Irvine titled his hat to view him appraisingly.

Zell drooped further. "Guess your right." He narrowed his eyes and pouted. "Stupid girls."

"Word." On a sigh, Irvine lifted an arm, dropped it helplessly. For the first time in his life, he was about ready to admit defeat.

"That's it." Zell pounded his fist against his knee and sat up straight. "From now on, I ain't trusting a thing that comes out of a girl's mouth. The next time I see one, I'm gonna--."

"Hi guys!" A familiar face popped up next to the table.

"Aaaah!" Zell leapt out of his sitting position and took up a defensive stance, fists ready.

Selphie cocked her head and gave him a weird look. Not that his normal behaviour was any less strange. But he was eyeing her like she was some kind of evil sorceress. 

"Jeepers, what's up with him? I was just saying hi." When the other man only shrugged in reply her copper brows climbed high on her head and her eyes went wide. "What's going on? Why're you sitting all the way back here?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Zell countered, crossing his arms defensively. "I didn't do anything."

"Who said you did?" Standing on her toes, she peered up into his face and searched his expression. "Are you on hotdog withdrawal or something, Zell? You look pale."

At the mention of the food item, his face blanched. His belly turned over and gurgled. In reaction, his lip curled and his nose wrinkled. When his knees buckled he was forced to sit back down. "I think I'm gonna ralph."

"Hotdogs, hotdogs, hotdogs," sang Selphie, dancing along. She had known she'd have him with that. Ever since the gala five months ago the teen had become instantly nauseous at the mere mention of the word. She had delighted him torturing him from the moment she had discovered his gastronomical issues on.

Irvine sunk lower in his chair and covered his eyes with his hat. Their childish games were doing nothing for his raging temples.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Wieners and ketchup, and buns and relish, and pickles, and onions, and mustard."

"Shut up!" Throwing back his chair so that it echoed against the floor, Zell glowered at her. Stunned, she quieted her singing. "I can't take it anymore! I'm moving to Centra. I'm going to change my name to Dances With Toramas and I'm going to join up with a tribe of cannibals and wear a loin cloth. I'm going to sleep outside and smoke mantis weed. And I'm never going to look at another woman or hotdog again!"

Amused, Irvine glanced up at Zell with one unhidden eye. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

"A life without her annoying voice?" Frustrated beyond control, Zell gestured at Selphie with a thumb. "Sounds like, like heaven." When she only smiled innocently at his hate-filled glare, he emitted a low growl and stomped away, arms swinging tightly at his sides.

"The guy's got serious issues," remarked Selphie before taking up his spot. "Oh! Guess what, Irvy! I met two new girls when I was coming back to Garden with Rinoa. They were super-nice. We're gonna go shopping with them tomorrow. One of 'em is named Ginny, isn't that the cutest? I'm sure you'd like her. Seems like your type. I can put in a good word for you, if you like."

Maybe, just maybe, thought Irvine, Zell had the right idea after all. Compared to his life, the Centrian desert suddenly wasn't sounding so bad. 


	9. Flexible

"I am convinced that we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the real misfortunes and pains of others." – Edmund Burke.

**Flexible**

_Drink can alter you   
Girls can have strange effect too               _

_I ask myself, is it a sin   
To be flexible when the boat comes in   
Open the window and out go ideals_

_We all know boats don't last   
We all know cars are fast_ (Depeche Mode)

Downshifting, she steered the car around the corner of the old warehouse. Given their need for discretion she was forced to keep the headlights dim, which made manoeuvring in the old section of the city difficult. The road was wide but rocky and electricity had long since been cut off from the lamps that bordered the way. Few citizens traversed this area since the Galbadian occupation. Fewer still fifteen minutes to midnight.

As quietly as possible given the poor conditions, Mrs. Banagher brought the rumbling wagon to a halt at the curb of the brick building. She leaned forward to switch off the ignition and cut the lights. Other than the dying engine, the only palpable sound was their soft breathing. 

Next to her, the other woman shifted, unbuckling her seat belt and reaching into the carryall at her feet. The interior of the vehicle lit somewhat when Quistis was able to find a flashlight. Setting the cylinder between herself and the driver so that its glare beamed off the floor, she sat back. 

"Okay. We have a bit of time so before we do anything we should make sure we've all got the plan straight." Quistis turned a little so she could address both Mrs. Banagher and the passenger in the backseat.

Removing her own restraint, the older woman looked at her and smiled. Excitement sparkled in her eyes. This was her first covert mission in over ten years and she was anxious to get moving again. For so long she had been the one in the background, planning but never participating in the actions of the resistance movement. It was thrilling to be involved once more. It made her feel alive to be doing something for a cause she believed in. Strong.

"All right. Watts and I will enter the building first. We shouldn't have too much difficulty, I'm thinking. I'm to pretend interest in joining them, which they'll have no choice but to believe. No one turns me down." She wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.

Quistis chuckled and smiled back, glancing to her left at the nervous fellow behind them. She was not as confident about their scheme as the resistance leader. For starters, she was ethically opposed to involving civilians in a SeeD operation. Though the woman was clearly sure of herself and of their success, Quistis could not help but feel guilty. If something were to go awry, she would be held accountable. Furthermore, while the woman might have experience with this sort of thing from her younger days, her partner did not. Nor did he appear eager to begin his training. If anything, he looked as though he was prepared to bolt at the sign of trouble. Not good. It was suddenly plain to her why the Forest Owls had needed to call in SeeD to carry out their plans.

"Right. Watts, you are to stay with her at all times, backing up what she tells them. It'll be less suspicious than if she were to go in alone."

"Got it, sir." The male nodded, fidgeting against the soft material of the seat. He shot a look out the window and Quistis caught the apprehensive way he rubbed his hands against his jeans.

"Brilliant. I'll be listening from in here." Hefting her bag up from the floor, Quistis began unloading the surveillance equipment, complete with headphones and a mini-recorder. They had set up the system back at the house and both individuals were fully wired. "I doubt they will check to see if you are bugged but if so I want you both to—."

"I know, I know." Mrs. Banagher broke in with a laugh. "Give them our full cooperation until you can get inside." Shaking her head, she reached over and patted Quistis' hand. "You worry too much, love. Everything is going to be fine."

"I hope so. But we have to be prepared for any mishap." Quistis cursed herself for not having any Guardian Forces with her. She hated using them at the best of times but even she had to admit their powers were often very useful in tight situations. They were one of the reasons SeeD was so feared. Without them, she felt almost helpless. Very much on her own. While she had wanted a chance to prove her theories to the scoffing board of directors, this was not the situation she had originally envisioned. 

"Once you're in do your best to find out as much as you can about Almasy's location. Find out what they are doing with him if you can. Every piece of information you can get will be helpful."

"Roger that, chief." Granting her a brisk salute, Mrs. Banagher winked. "Like getting a confession of one of my boys. My husband always said I would have made a great lawyer."

"But don't make it too obvious," warned Quistis. "We don't want to alert them before we're ready to move in."

That was another hitch in their heinously flawed strategy. If something were to go wrong, if the Wolves were at all distrusting, they had no backup. Unarmed, the two would be left vulnerable. It would be up to her to arrive in time.

Fully aware of the nature of the state of affairs and the danger she was putting herself in, the other woman just gave the younger female's hand one last pat. She understood the ramifications of the job she was about to do and the consequences if their strategy failed. But she was ready to face them. After all, her only daughter was inside.

"Are there any questions?" Quistis tugged back the sleeve of her borrowed sweater to check her watch. Five to midnight.

"None. Let's move out." Grabbing a hold on the door handle, Mrs. Banagher went to pop it open. "Take care of my baby, will you? She may be old but she's of fine Timber stock. The last model before the factory was shut down." She gave the steering wheel a fond stroke before moving to rise out of the car.

One final bout of conscience screaming at her, Quistis shot out a hand and touched the other woman's shoulder. Their eyes locked. "You don't have to do this, you know. There's still time."

"Don't be silly. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?" With a quiet laugh, she sent Quistis a warm smile. Her eyes softened. "You could not stop me now even if you used one of them sleeping spells. This is our fight as much as it is yours. Trust me, dear, and stop worrying! You'll have more wrinkles than me in a couple years." Swivelling her gaze to the male, her expression became hard. "Move it, Watts."

"Yes, chief." Gulping audibly, he fumbled for the door handle and stumbled out into the night. The sky was moonless and black, it took him a moment to adjust to the difference in light. Something streaked past his foot and he jumped, nearly shrieking. If his mentor's hand had not landed firm on his shoulder he would have been back in the vehicle. He was more frightened of her than anything or anyone else he would ever face.

"Just a rat," she assured him. He was not so positive there was such a thing as "just" a rat but he kept his mouth shut and nodded.

"Good luck," leaning her head out the window, Quistis whispered to them. "Remember, the order to evacuate takes priority."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." With a cavalier wave of her hand, Mrs. Banagher turned to head toward the front of the building.

"And Watts?" Quistis added, causing him to hesitate. She gave him an encouraging smile. "Rinoa told me once you were the best when it came to reconnaissance. Thanks for helping me out. I know you can do it." She watched as he blushed and scratched the back of his neck.

"It's, uh, no problem, sir. I mean, ma'am." He backed away in the direction of the woman. "Just doing my best. I'll see you later."

When he disappeared around the side of the building she rolled up the window and arranged the recording materials on the passenger seat. Slipping the headphones over her hair and making sure the speakers directly covered her ears, she leaned back against the driver's seat and set up to wait. 

Squall looked up from the monitor when the door to his office opened, not a little abruptly. Catching sight of Xu with a furrowed brow and a frown twisting her lips, he quickly minimized the asteroids game he had been absorbed in so that the mission briefing returned to the screen.

"Can I help you? I'm a little busy."

Rolling her eyes, Xu closed the door at her back. The air had been tense between them since the previous afternoon, not all of it on her part. She felt she was justified in her bitter feelings and was not about to make peace anytime soon. Especially since it did not seem as though he was willing to apologize for his comments. In all actuality, his opinion of her position mattered little; he held little authority over her standing. But she was not one to pass up an opportunity to rankle his ever-unshakable nerves.

"As a matter of fact, you can." Striding over to the desk, she placed both of her hands on the surface. "Evidently, the case file on Almasy, which is _stringently _classified under the penalty of death, has gone missing from my collection."

"I see." Meeting her accusing gaze head-on, he pursed his lips. "Do you want me to put a task force on it?"

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary." Whipping back her hair, she straightened up and folded her arms, eyes narrowed in a scowl. "Hand it over, Leonhart. Not only did you not sign it out, but you went through my personal records to get it. Your assignment as Commander does not render you above the rules."

"What makes you think I took it?" Bored with the conversation, he averted his eyes back to the computer screen, scrolling down with the mouse. 

"Let me think." Xu shifted her weight onto one foot and cocked her head. "Your irritation yesterday when I informed you it could only be removed at one hour intervals. The tantrum you would have had in the middle of the front office had Cid not been standing there. Your complete ignorance of all the rules as they apply to yourself. I don't know, Squall. Pick one."

He did not respond for a solid two minutes. Continued to stare at the screen while she stood in front of him, tapping an impatient foot against the carpet. He nearly grinned at each soft thud her boot made against the runner. If she thought she was the only one around the executive office adept at practical jokes she would find herself to be very mistaken. He had learned a lot from his friends over the past few months.

"Well? Cough it up."

Slowly, he angled his head back in her direction. "I don't have it," he answered at length. "Maybe you filed it wrong."

"My ass." Seething but knowing she would get no further with him at the moment, Xu jerked back around and rammed the button for the automatic door. "If I find out you have it, shit's going down."

When the door slithered shut, Squall's expression broke out in a self-satisfied smirk. Mood improved greatly, he went back to pelting enemy ships with digital rocks. The more he got used to it, the more he appreciated his job.

Inside the warehouse, Mrs. Banagher and Watts were led down a narrow upstairs corridor by a stocky youth, attired casually in jeans and a sweatshirt. She had explained her motives to him upon their arrival and he had been more than willing to lead them to the organization's secretary. He had not even blinked when she had insisted Watts join them.

Stopping at a random doorway, the man knocked twice before tugging on the rusted handle and stepping inside. "Wait here." His tone was affable and he sent her a smile to show she was welcome.

Once they were alone, she spoke in a low voice, directing her statements toward Quistis who was connected in the car. "We're on the third floor. Fifth door on the left. I think we are going to be meeting with some kind of admission officer. Everything seems to be cautious and systematical. Like they are concerned about some kind of breech. The security check at the door was grand. I think they are both armed."

"What I expected." Quistis' voice filtered through both of the pieces in their respective ears. "They'd have to be on alert for Galbadian forces. Keep me posted."

They looked up when the door reopened and they were directed inside by the same fellow. Out of the corner of her eye, she could detect the noticeable bulge in his loose jumper. Apparently every member of the movement was ready for violence. Back in the old days of the Owls and Foxes, they had not required such heavy protection. However, to be fair, that was before the war. 

"Please, come in."

The new voice was familiar. So familiar, in fact, that it had her jaw almost plummeting to her knees in disbelief. Behind her, Watts saw the overt rigidity of her shoulders and back muscles. He looked beyond to the female seated on a low sofa, a book open in her lap. 

The room was spartanly furnished but immaculate. The single table space was void of the wrappers and magazines that covered his own furniture and the chairs were patched but clean. He imagined it was the woman's personal quarters as a refrigerator and several cooking utensils resided in the far corner. A dish rack sat next to the sink, half full of spotless plastic plates. He had never been invited to this section of the building before. The few times he had visited the headquarters his access had been restricted to the main floor meeting hall. Right away he recognized the sole occupant as Athair's second in command. They had never formally met but she had chaired the last general assembly. Of course, there was another reason he immediately identified the woman.

"Hello, Mother." Rising off the couch, the thin female inclined her head in greeting. "I knew you would eventually find me here."

"You dyed your hair," was Mrs. Banagher's short reply. Her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yes. Do you like it?" Reaching up a hand, she fingered the pale wispy locks that smoothed around her heart-shaped face. "I think it suits my new image."

"I wasn't aware there was anything wrong with the old one."

Watts looked back and forth between the two women, irresolute about how to progress. Wondering if he should just slip out the door and leave them to catch up. Quistis' anxious instructions buzzed in his ear.

Letting out a harsh laugh, the young girl tipped back her head. "No, I guess you wouldn't have been. So old-fashioned you are. I had once thought I could get you to understand. But your rejection of my new life, my new happiness, day after day, made me realize it's impossible. You don't care about me. Not unless I'm following your orders. Cooking in the kitchen and behaving like a proper little lady."

"That's nonsense!" Mrs. Banagher felt her temper begin to climb. "I've only ever wanted you to be happy."

"Then you would have supported my decision from the beginning. You would have supported us." The timbre of her words turned up a notch. "Admit it, Mother. The only reason you are so against our group is because it wasn't your idea. Because we actually have a chance while you've done nothing but fail the past eighteen years."

"Watch your mouth, young lady! I've half a mind to drag you out by your hair. You may be an adult but you are still my child."

"I'm not going anywhere, least of all home with you." Blue eyes flickered over their shoulders to the man standing guard in the doorway. She lifted her wrist and crooked a finger to beckon him forward. 

"What about your brothers? They miss you dreadfully. Don't you care about them?"

Feeling the tiny hairs prick on his neck, something inside him told Watts to turn around. Following instinct he was met nose to nose with the barrel of a shiny semi-automatic. He made a slight sound.

"Of course I do. I'm trying to give them a future and a childhood I never had. Tell me, where are they now? Home alone?"

"Don't be daft. Your father's with them. Remember him? He's worried sick about you as well."

"Good." Ignoring her last remark, the younger woman stepped around the nicked coffee table and sauntered over to where they stood. "Then it won't be a problem if you are detained."

It was only then Mrs. Banagher perceived the change of mood. Frowning she spun on her heel. Her eyes widened when they spotted the revolver currently trained on her head. Horrified, she looked back at her daughter, heart dropping to her stomach. 

"You would threaten your own mother." Her words were soft, filled with anger and something else more frightening. She picked up the silence from Quistis' end at her statement. "You would have me killed if I stood in your way."

"Don't be so dramatic. It's not personal. It's for Timber. Petty relationships don't matter at a time like this." Continuing her way to the door, she paused at the frame and slanted a look backward. "I'd advise you to be as cooperative as possible. It doesn't have to end this way." 

Expression hard and unsmiling, she directed her next instructions to Watts. "Come with me. I should like to thank you for bringing her in."

"Change of plans! Go with her." Quistis barked through the line. "You might be able to get something out of her. Go!"

He was about to, had even taken a step forward, but his loyalty ripped him in half. His mind pulled him in various directions. A quick glance at Mrs. Banagher told him she was seconding the SeeD's urgings. But he found he could not leave her alone. Call him weak, call him a sucker, but he could not do it.

"No. I-I'll stay with her, ma'am." Thrusting back his shoulders, he stood his ground. "She's right."

A single brow arched on the girl's forehead. "Well, that was unexpected. Fine, do as you please." She addressed the guard. "Hold them. He'll want to know of their arrival."

Keeping the gun focussed on them, he watched as she moved down the hall before facing back into the room. The second the door creaked shut at his back, Mrs. Banagher bounced into action. Caught in a moment's distraction, he was unable to prevent her from grabbing the shell of his ear between two of her fingernails. When she gave a mighty yank he howled, his neck flexing back in response. His opposite arm reached over to try to get her to release him but his efforts were fruitless.

"Watts! Grab the gun!"

There was a brief struggle as he quickly moved to obey. When the man refused to loosen his grip on the weapon, she simply twisted harder. "Drop it!" Watts bent back the other man's arm, causing him to tumble onto his knees. He wrenched his wrist and the male cried out once more. Mrs. Banagher was growing more and more frustrated as the tussle continued. 

"Hey! Is everything all right in there?" Her fears came to culmination as the man's shouts of pain attracted an inquisitor to the door. Their victim grunted and would have called for help had she not clasped her hand over his mouth.

"Watts, hurry!"

"I'm trying, chief," he whispered back, a little breathless. "But he won't let go!"

The reverberation of a bullet ricocheting off a stone wall put their skirmish to a concluding arrest.

"What happened?" Inside the car on the street, Quistis turned up the level of her headset. The volume of the bullet's release had blown through her eardrums until all she could pick up was the drone of the cable line. When she still detected nothing, she turned the machine off the on again. 

"Hello? What's going on? Can anyone hear me?"

Distressed, but ordering herself to maintain her composure, she removed the headphones, snatched up her whip and secured it through the belt loop of her slacks. She broke out of the vehicle at a run, heart pounding in her throat. If anything had happened to either of them she would never forgive herself.

The metal entrance had no outside knob so she was forced to thump with a fist and wait. "Think, Quistis, think." She repeated over and over to herself. 

Logic was required now, not emotion. Get in, make sure Mrs. Banagher and Watts were safe, find Seifer, get out. If she kept it simple, just concentrated on each step as it came, she might actually be able to get through the next hour unscathed.

The heavy metal heaved open to a slit, not enough for her to force it the rest of the way given its daunting weight. 

"A cold night to be wandering around."

The voice was firm but not harsh, masculine. The words were almost phrased as a question. Straight away she figured it must be some kind of code. She was to answer with the appropriate response and she would be allowed inside. Unfortunately, Watts had omitted this little fact from his divulged information. 

Instead of simply guessing out of her ass, Quistis decided upon a more creative option. "But I bet you'll keep me warm."

"Huh?" Confused by the flirtatious lilt in her tone, he nudged the door a bit wider. Hesitating just enough so she could stick her hand between it and the frame and haul it open all the way.

"Hi there! You don't mind if I just have a little look round do you?" A sinister light glinted in her eyes. Immediately he went for his weapon.

However, her hand was already pulling her own into action. The tail of the whip snapped around his wrist and caught him off guard. Yanking his body forward and against her own, she moved her free hand to the waistband of his pants, lifted up his shirt and pulled out his gun. The cold comfort of the firearm rested perfectly in her hand before she released him.

Cocking the barrel, she set it on him. "I assume this is fully loaded. So I doubt you'll be having issues with me taking a self-guided tour of the facilities."

Shaking his head, he raised his arms in surrender. She practically reeked of SeeD and he'd had enough experience in the field to recognize the scent. "No, ma'am."

"Good." Smiling, she walked into the building, forcing him to step backwards. Fully inside, Quistis' pleasant expression faded and her eyes grew cold. "But for some extra insurance." 

Fast as summer lightning her hand was in the air and cracking the end of the gun against his skull. She looked down at his slumped frame. "Can't have him alerting his little cronies."

The main floor was nothing more than a loading bay, as far as she could tell. She raced across the open concrete to the far exit. Mrs. Banagher's directions rushed through her mind. Third floor, fifth door. At top speed she yanked on the lever and lugged it open, not caring about how much noise she made. All too soon everyone in the vicinity was going to be aware of her presence if something had happened to either one of her charges. 

Her sneakered feet pounded out a wild tattoo as she ran up the stairs, two at a time. They were borrowed along with the rest of her clothes from the Banagher household and they rubbed her heels and pinched her toes in a most uncomfortable manner.

Emerging at the top, she dragged at another door only to discover it was locked. Emitting a frustrated growl, she wasted precious seconds snatching a pin from her hair and examining the bolt. Much to her relief it was old and simple so she was able to release the catch without too much trauma. Once the door was open, she realized the obstacles were far from over. Two individuals had been put in charge of the door for added security. Obviously they had as little faith in the lock as she. Upon her arrival, they swivelled around, weapons drawn and at the ready.

"Drop the gun!" The female was barely fifteen at Quistis' best guess. "Do as we say and we won't have to kill you."

"That's right." Her male counterpart added. "Or else we'll be forced to sound the alarm."

Sighing, Quistis rolled her eyes. She really did not want to have to hurt them as they were clearly out of their league. But if they continued to stand in her way she would have no choice. 

"Can you tell me where Seifer Almasy is being kept?" The two exchanged bemused glances. Taking advantage of their vacillation, she leapt forward and disarmed the young boy. This time she secured his weapon in the front waistband of her pants, directing the other solely at the girl. "Well?"

"I'm don't know." Throwing back her shoulders, the girl tightened her grip. Her brows lowered and her stance widened.

"Wrong answer." Quistis snapped out her whip and latched it around the girl's ankle. She tumbled to the floor gracelessly. Aware of the male she sent a brief glance his way. But he was already running down the hall in a clamour of pounding feet. Damn. That had not gone as planned. 

Turning back to the girl, she decided to try one more time. "If you don't know maybe you can tell me who does."

The girl's eyes darted back and forth. Quistis had to admire her determination but at the same time she was all too conscious of the second hand on her watch. Too many minutes had passed. 

"Or perhaps he can tell me." Taking a guess at which way the wind blew, she swung her gun to the retreating back of the male, tensed her finger over the trigger.

"No! No, he knows nothing. Please!" The girl pleaded. An idea occurred to her that lit up the depths of her frightened gaze. "Zone! He would know. He's the one who brought him here this morning."

Quistis nodded, suspicions confirmed, and eased off on the trigger. "Next time, keep your knees bent. You'll have more control." Bending down, she ensured the girl would no longer be a threat by relieving her of her weapon as well before continuing on her way. 

"Two, three, four." She counted doors aloud at each running step. Halting at the fifth, she kicked it open. Aside from the single bullet hole in the left wall there was none of the carnage she had been anticipating. Her breath freed itself from its prison in her lungs in one large hiss.

Her eyes fell on Watts who stood with his feet planted and both his hands supporting the weight of yet another firearm. This time it was pointed at two men tied to an armchair with what looked to be the torn fabric of an evening dress. 

"Watts! What happened?" she managed, taking in the setting with an appraising eye. "Where is Mrs. Banagher?"

"She went after her daughter, sir." His hands were steady despite the shock in his voice. Quistis was impressed with the way he had held up. He had been a constant surprise to her throughout their brief association that had begun that morning. She owed him big time. 

"She told me to watch these guys didn't escape. We couldn't get in touch with you."

"So you're both okay, then. Thank the gods." Sparing one last look at the goons, who did not seem to be desirous of inciting Watts' wrath, she let her mind shift to the next step. Find Seifer. "Do you have any idea where Zone could be?"

"Right behind ya." Simultaneously, Quistis and Watts swung their gazes to the door. The former automatically leaping into battle stance at the intrusion. Zone stepped into the room, whistling as his eyes devoured the scene. "Jeez, buddy. What have you gotten yourself into now? Flanagan practically ran me over in the hall. Freaking about some kind of military occupation. Oh, hey Quistis."

"Hi." Regardless of the nature of the word, the greeting was anything but friendly. It was due to his reckless, and ignorant actions they were involved in the current situation. Evidently, he was swift enough to pick up on the reason for her ice-ridden glare; a flush had formed under the collar of his shirt. "I wondered when you would show up."

"Me? I'm always around." Zone turned back to his friend who was regarding him with somewhat of a less irate complexion. Well, at least Watts was not gnashing his teeth. Quistis looked like she was already licking his remains from her lips. "Man, what a mess. What're you doing here anyway? I thought I told you to stall her, ya numb nut."

"Listen up!" Slashing her whip against the ground, Quistis garnered their instant attention. She was edgy as all get out. A few more minutes and the leader of the faction would be breathing down her neck, along with his vapid force of armed teenagers. Honestly, she had no idea where they got the capital to purchase all of these weapons. 

"Watts, I want you to stay here until it gets hazardous. Mrs. Banagher knows where you are and will come for you. If you can't handle it, run, hide, whatever. Zone, you are going to take me to Almasy. No arguments, no stomach cramps. Got it?" She waited a beat and when she received no protest, wrapped her fingers around Zone's forearm and propelled him out of the room. She promised herself that before this night was over, she was going to kill something.

The journey downstairs was relatively uneventful. They only ran into a few faction members brave enough to challenge her abilities. All of which were easily dispatched. By the time they landed at the ground floor Quistis reckoned she had enough lead on her to start her own militia.

"Now where?" Maintaining a tight grip on his arm, she nudged him into action.

Zone wavered. "I'm not sure." Her nails dug through his sleeve and her other hand reached for the whip tucked at her side. His eyes widened and he backed down. "Okay, okay! He's in the basement."

"Which is?" Quistis' ears picked up on the din of stomping feet, lots of them, parading down the stair well behind them. With a light shake she urged him onward. "Move!" While she'd had little difficulty eliminating the factional members one or two at a time, a host of the volatile youths was not something she was raring to face without magic.

Spurred on by fear, Zone led her across the warehouse floor toward the stairs on the other side. "Down here."

"Terrific." Way ahead of him she all but jumped off the landing. The flight was snug and would not fit more than one average sized person across. Hurrying as fast as she could without tripping and cracking her skull, Quistis made it down in half the time, leaving Zone to scamper in her wake. 

She entered into yet one more hallway, watched by three men. She almost snorted when they stood up from their card game at her approach. The whole scene was so stereotypical. They reached for their weapons, rifles this time, but she beat them to it.

"For crying out loud, where do you get all this artillery from? Is there a gold mine in Timber I'm not aware of?"

"Who the hell are you?" The unshaven man spat. He was older than all of the others she'd met, considerably so. And he sported a fine looking tattoo of Timber's symbol which she recognized from the country's blue and yellow flag. Opposite the fetching image of an anacondaur on his left arm, it made an attractive package.

"My name isn't important. What I can do to you is. I'm packing more heat than all three of you combined. I believe you gentlemen have something of mine."

"Look, lady, I have orders, and I ain't about to—."

A bullet whizzed out of the revolver in Quistis' hands, millimetres past his ear, to imbed itself in the door behind him. She was fed up with playing games. Her eyes shone and her lips curled in a cold sneer. "If you think I missed you're fooling yourselves. Get out of my way."

"Hey," the man widened his eyes to she could see the whites even from her distance. "It's no skin off my nose. I'm just here for the cash. Got a wife and kid in back home I gotta feed, y'know? We're not looking for a fight."

Arching a brow, Quistis conceded and withdrew her weapon. "Fair enough." Taking the first man's lead, the three moved aside to let her pass. So this Athair hired mercenaries to do his dirty work as well as children. Interesting. She'd take time to wax theoretical on that later.

Stepping into the far room, the first thing she noticed was the immense stacks of cardboard boxes. They filled almost the entire room, sparing the right wall. Curious, she walked over to a tower at eye-level. Brows knitted, she slipped a nail underneath the plastic binding and ran it along the top, opening the two flaps. She stood on tiptoe to take a peek inside. Let out a breath. 

The box was filled with light-weight handguns of the kind she had strapped against her hips. Thirty-two calibre if she got it right. Easy to wield, simple, relatively long-range, and fatal. Glancing around she could only assume each box held similar contents. The smaller ones were most likely for ammunition. Unbelievable. There had to be at least fifty to sixty boxes, if not more. She almost choked at the thought.

Quistis refocused her attention. The Wolves and their plans for world domination could take precedence later. For now she had to find Seifer. And fast.

Racing out of the room, Quistis looked for the guards to question them. But the dingy lit hall was empty. Where did Zone run off to? Detecting a noise from below the stair well she dashed over, weapon at the ready.

Her legs turned to jelly and she said a quick prayer when she finally saw the man she was looking for, laid out on a cot below the stairs. Falling to her knees, she squatted in front of him. 

"Almasy." Placing a hand on his shoulder she tried to shake him awake. When he did not respond, she cast an uneasy glance at the bottom of the steps. "Seifer, wake up," she hissed. "We don't have time for this." That was when she realized something. He looked like hell.

His forehead was covered in dried blood from an unattended cut. A nice healthy bruise had formed on the pale skin beneath his right eye. Hip bottom lip was also more than a little swollen. Concerned, she moved her hand to his forehead. It was blazing.

Quistis rallied all of her strength into rolling him onto his back. His heartbeat was slow but it was there. His breath came out in sporadic wheezes. "What the heck did they do to you?" She took hold of his shoulders and shook him. 

"Seifer." Her mouth was next to his ear. "Seifer, can you hear me? We have to go. I need you to help me. Seifer!" Identifying a small moan from his throat, she pulled back and studied his face. She clasped his chin in her hand and stared at him hard. "Listen to me. You have to get up." She spoke quickly and as loud as she dared. His eyelids fluttered and he murmured something incomprehensible, shifting restlessly on the mattress. Then it hit her. He was drugged.

"Damn it!" Not willing to give up, Quistis sat next to him on the small bed and tried to force him to sit up. It took her longer than she would have liked but eventually she managed it so his arm was around her shoulders, deadweight that it was, and his body was leaning against her side. "C'mon, Almasy. Help me out a little." 

Standing was going to be the hard part. Despite his five months living off a prisoner's diet, he still weighed significantly more than she. "Okay, let's go. One, two, three, up!"

She nearly crumpled back onto the cot under his mass. Her breath rasped and she was sure her rib cage was about to cave in. And they still had to get up the stairs. "Oh, God."

Half-dragging him across the floor was adventure enough and cost her valuable time. As she gazed up at the narrow passage she felt utterly helpless. 

And then the door at the top squeaked and Watts' freckled face peered around the corner. She could just make out his facial features amidst the darkness. If she had not been so exhausted from lugging Seifer five feet she would have danced a jig right then and there.

"Watts, you're my hero. Can you help me get him up the steps? I'm about to collapse."

He bounded down at the sound of her distressed voice. His eyebrows lifted above his cap when he took in Seifer's condition. "What happened to him?"

"I think he's drugged. He's alive, but barely. Here, you take his legs and I'll take his shoulders. It's the only way we'll make it up."

Watts followed her implicit orders and they began the climb. On the landing, Watts lowered his friend's feet to the floor so he could open the door behind them. Continuing in the same manner they had on the stairs, together they carted him into the loading bay.

Where over a dozen armed and ready faction members were waiting. These ones were different. Instead of denim and cotton, each wore a uniform of blue and yellow. Not unlike that of the former Timber army. Their weapons were highly sophisticated as well and Quistis knew she had been caught.

Broken applause resounded from the balcony and she jerked her head up. The man was tall but due to the poor lighting she could not distinguish any other material characteristics. "Well done, Mr. Watts. You've captured yourself a SeeD. I knew we could count on you."

Quistis never moved her eyes from his face. She squinted into the darkness. "Mr. Athair, I presume?" Her words were dry. "I've heard so much about you."

"The pleasure's all mine Ms. Trepe. It's too bad our first acquaintance must be so fleeting." He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. 

The soldiers on the main floor parted to let another step to the front. It was the unshaven man from the basement. He gave her a toothy grin. Her eyes travelled to the person he held beneath one thick arm, his other, the one with the anacondaur, fixed a gun at the Zone's temple.

Fuck. How could she have been so stupid?

"Drop him, Ms. Trepe," Athair advised from above. "I really don't want to have to injure our mutual friend, but some situations call for dire consequences, no? Put Almasy down, and I let him go. This will be naught but a bad dream."

Eyes sparking and chest constricting, Quistis gestured for Watts to let go of Seifer's legs. She prepared herself to take on the entirety of his bulky frame. Trying not to show how weak she felt, she stood as straight as possible and lifted her chin. Thinking rapidly she came up with the only defence she had in her arsenal. After all, turnabout was fair play. She lifted her own gun in her other hand and placed it against Seifer's bleeding forehead.

"Now, now. Don't do anything rash. You're bound to regret an action like that in the morning. You don't want that man dead any more than I do." His words were amused, but still uttered in an almost monotonic fashion. It was unnerving.

"What makes you so sure?" Quistis tossed out. "He's a war criminal. Tried to off my friends and me in one go. Why shouldn't I want to see him dead? Heck, I'd be named an international hero." 

If only she felt as confident as she sounded. She knew the ploy would not last long.

"You kill him, my men kill you and our little owls down there. It's as simple as that."

"I kill Almasy and all of your plans go to waste. My death matters little. It's as simple as that." It was a leap but one she hoped she could land from.

"Oh, please. Spare me from that sacrificial bullshit. You are a SeeD. You don't give a damn about the rest of the world." His voice had grown hard as rock. "All you care about his how much gil you can accumulate in your little bank account. You can't make any money when you're dead." 

There was something familiar about his voice, the nature of it. She considered herself an excellent observer, especially when it came to accents. Came from being a world-traveller at fifteen. The man tried to hide it, but every now and then his natural enunciation would ring out. She had to keep him talking.

Quistis opened her mouth to let loose with a snide comment about his cowardice but her words were drowned out by the smashing and consequent shattering of glass mixed in with the violent cacophony of compressing metal.

The soldiers scattered out of the way as an impressive-looking truck barrelled through the glass doors of the loading bay and into the central area. Tattoo released his captive as he struggled to escape being run over. Athair disappeared from his position on the balcony.

Quistis whooped when she caught sight of the woman at the wheel. Recruiting Watts, she half-carried Seifer over to the truck, where Mrs. Banagher was jumping from the driver's seat. A mile wide grin on her round face. 

"Come on, love. You have to hurry. Get him in." There was no time for thank yous as the three worked to lift the man into the cab. Quistis placed both hands on the high seat and scurried up and in after him. The fit was tight, with Quistis nearly supporting Seifer in her lap but eventually all four made it inside. Mrs. Banagher revved the engine and began to back up.

"What about Zone?" yelled Quistis. Seifer's head lolled to the side so that his hot breath scalded her cheek.

"I'll come back for him. We have to get you out first!" 

Glass crunched under the wheels of the lorry as they backed up and out. The tyres spun and the woman managed to get the vehicle turned around just as the soldiers appeared at the exit.

"Go, go, go!" Quistis and Watts urged in unison. Mrs. Banagher floored the accelerator. The first few shots whizzed by the windows. Quistis tried to look back but all she could see aside from Seifer was fogged plexiglas. She heard the next few shots ping against the roof and along the back window but no bullets penetrated.

Stunned, she leaned forward to look at her rescuer. "Bullet-proof? Nice. Where did you find this thing?"

"Straight from the lord's corral." Mrs. Banagher winked. Quistis could not help but laugh. 

"So basically you want us to act as double agents." Irvine shifted forward in the chair as he sorted through the information. He, Selphie, and Zell had been summoned to a briefing in the head office that morning after breakfast.

"In a way, yes." Their commander crossed his arms and leaned against the desk from where he stood to address the trio. "I've agreed to help Murphy but at the same time we have a type of agreement with Caraway. It's complicated."

"I get it!" Next to Irvine, Selphie perched on the edge of her seat. "Esthar's willing to shell out the big bucks but Galbadia's dished even more to make sure we leave them alone, right?"

"Exactly." Nodding, Squall ran a hand through his hair. 

Selphie grinned. "Sounds like fun!"

On the other side of the female, Zell relaxed. While he still had not forgiven her last night, for the sake of a new mission he was willing to put all bad feelings aside. It had been awhile since he had seen any real action, body guard jobs notwithstanding. And the girl was right. This one sounded like a doozey.

"What are we supposed to do once we get to Deling?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Find out what you can about Caraway and his plans. He has been alerted to your arrival for tomorrow morning."

"But he thinks we'll be there to protect his government from intrusion." A slow grin spread over Irvine's face as finished the thought. "I must say, it's a brilliant plan."

"And this Murphy guy thinks we're going to snoop for him so his guys will let us in." Selphie's eyes met the male's and she followed up with a grin of her own. "But, really, we don't trust him so we gotta dig up as much dirt as we can on him as well. Whew! This is gonna be a toughie."

"I realize that. I would go myself but…" Squall cast a look at the desk behind him and let out a frustrated sigh.

"No problem!" Zell jumped to his feet. "You can count on us, man. Ain't nothing we can't handle." Not to mention the welcome prospect of getting away from The Psycho Twins - as he'd termed them - for an indefinite period of time.

"Remember, you can't let anything slip." Squall straightened and regarded each with a steady gaze. "As soon as your cover is blown, I want you out of there." 

The three exchanged glances and nodded in unison. Zell punched a fist into his open palm as the others rose.

"Let's do it!"

Before he dismissed them, Squall stepped out of the room to retrieve the mission details he had typed up earlier from the printer. While they waited Selphie turned to measure Irvine questioningly.

"What were you two whispering about in the cafeteria this morning?"

The man's eyes widened only slightly before he recovered and rotated his shoulders in nonchalance. Sharing a confused look with Zell, he lifted his hands. "What do you mean?"

"Before we got called up! You were acting all secretive and Zell said something about his butt being grass." Hands on hips, Selphie stared him down. She hated to be left out of anything. 

"No idea. Dincht?"

"Uh, nope. Not a clue." Knowing he was a terrible liar, the other man did his best to avoid her appraising gaze. His eyes focussed on the painting of a sailboat over Irvine's head. "Sorry, Selphie."

Not to be deterred, she glowered into his eyes. Upon seeing them flicker back and forth in agitation, she stomped her foot. "Tell me!" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion when she swung around to face Irvine. "Does this have anything to do with those strange girls Nida saw you with yesterday?"

"What girls?" Doing his best to appear innocent, Irvine placed his hands behind his back. He had to fight the drive to smack one against his forehead. Dang that Nida. Obviously piloting Garden did not keep him occupied enough. The guy was the biggest gossip hound in the entire academy. He had trash on everyone. But one had to pay a pretty hefty price to have access. 

"You checkin' up on me Selph? Just say the word and I'm yours forever." Irvine wrapped a long arm around her slim shoulders and let loose with an exaggerated wink.

"Get real." Pushing him away and wrinkling her nose, Selphie tossed her hair. "Nida tells me everything." Selphie enunciated each syllable at they slid from her tongue. She frowned up at him, displeased with his attempt to distract her. "Out with it Kinneas!"

The door then reopened and their commander re-entered, his own brow puckered.

"Sorry, babe." Irvine gave her a cheeky smile. "Looks like it's back to business." Inwardly, he sighed in liberation. Mentally wiped his brow. That had been much too close. 

Taking a peek at her out of the corner of his eye he noticed her jaw was still set. His eyes met Zell's over the top of her head. They were as worried as he assumed his were. Soon, Irvine knew, their secret would be out. No one held out against The Tilmitt for long. Least of all him. She had a knack for interrogating soft-hearted males. It was going to be a long mission.

Half two in the morning in Timber City, Mrs. Banagher pulled up alongside the old warehouse once more. Two steps from where they'd left her car. They had drove around for an hour before deciding it was safe enough to retrieve her vehicle and the supplies Quistis would need for the drive to Dollet.

Leaving the ignition purring, she emerged from the large truck and spared a second to stretch her limbs. Watts was short to follow.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" 

After ensuring Seifer was secured in the passenger seat, still completely unconscious, Quistis slid over to position herself behind the wheel. She adjusted her neck at the other woman's question and nodded. 

"I should be. There's a town just outside the border. I'll be able to contact Balamb from there, maybe find a place to crash." She gestured to the man next to her, whose head lolled awkwardly along the back of the seat. "As long as the drugs don't wear off any time soon, it'll be a peaceful drive."

Mrs. Banagher produced an appreciative chuckle, careful to keep the sound low. "He is a handful, that one. Always had his own ideas about how things should be done. He's got pride and barrels of it. But after what I've seen of you tonight, you'll have no problems whipping the lad into shape." She winked. "And have fun doing it too."

Quistis raised a brow at the obvious innuendo. She wrinkled her nose. "He's a lot better looking knocked out than awake I assure you."

"If you say so." Laughing, the other woman decided to leave it at that. They did not have much time left. 

Watts fetched Quistis' bag from the other vehicle and carried it over to the open door of the lorry. She accepted it with a grateful smile and set it between her and Seifer on the bench.

"Thanks again," Quistis said through the open window when the other woman shut the door. "If there is anything you need, ever. Just give me a call. I owe you both."

"Don't be silly." With a swift shake of her head, Mrs. Banagher waved away her gratitude. "Tonight was as much for me as it was for you." Her eyes hardened as she thought about her daughter. "It was a pleasure."

Reaching out a hand, Quistis touched her shoulder softly. Her eyes filled with compassion. "I'll keep in touch. As soon as I get Almasy back I'm going to bring up the situation to Garden. This is far from over." Her own eyes darkened when Athair's droning voice drifted through her mind. There was something she was missing, she knew. And even if she had to disobey orders to do it, she was going to find out what it was.

"You do that. I'll be glad to hear from you." Mrs. Banagher patted her hand before she pulled it back into the car. "If you ever need a place to stay."

"Absolutely." Quistis was surprised to feel a lump build in her throat. She had yet to know the resistance leader for twenty-four hours but already she felt they had formed a connection that would last a lifetime. She was ever the more determined not to let her down. Perhaps this is what Seifer had felt all those months ago in the detention room. 

"You'd better get going, love. And so had I."

Quistis nodded once more then moved her hand to the key of the idling ignition. "Tell Watts I was proud of him, will you?"

"Of course." Stepping back to she could pull out, the woman gave her a wave. Lopsided dimples flashed in her cheeks as she grinned. "Drive safe. And give that boy a kiss for me! He looks like he needs it."

On a snort, Quistis rolled her eyes and eased up on the clutch, one hand on the wheel as she navigated around the curb. Almasy needed something and she was more than willing to give it to him. But it wasn't a kiss.

She drove fast and she drove hard once the truck was back on the main road network. There was little traffic given the time of night except for one or two military vehicles on routine checks. They steered clear and she met with no impediments to her exodus from the city. Five more minutes and she'd be ripping over Shenand Hill.

There was only one thing standing in her way. 

Catching sight of the metal gate that blocked the only exit to the urban centre by motorway, Quistis put on a burst of speed. The two guards in charge of monitoring thoroughfare, leapt in front of the gate at her approach, waving their arms excitedly. 

She only hurtled the truck forward faster. If she were to hit the bars at just the right angle with just enough momentum, the velocity would propel her through the feeble gate and onto freedom. 

When the two soldiers realized she was not slowing down, they were intelligent enough to move out of the way before the truck bowled them over. Judging by its size, the impact of them hitting the fender would barely cause it to decelerate. Their bodies would be mere pebbles crushed beneath its massive tyres. 

On a rush, Quistis blasted into the gates and beyond, hearing and feeling the compression of metal beneath her seat of ultimate power. Adrenaline soared through her veins and she laughed wickedly. Too bad she couldn't do that a second time. Best feeling she'd had in a long time.

The remains of the gate slid uselessly from the gleaming bonnet. Checking over her shoulder Quistis noticed the buildings of Timber were already far in the distance. It was all just a bad memory. Her hands flexed on the wheel and she adjusted her speed to a more manageable level. Never had she felt so in control before. Never had she felt so powerful. She had to say, she liked it. A lot. 

Tonight had gone well. Brilliantly so. She had managed to adapt to the change in plans and follow her instinct a little more. And despite it all, her screw-ups and her indecisions, she had managed to keep it all together. To meet each challenge and surpass it. Without the aid of fellow SeeDs or Guardians. Calm and collected, she had, quite frankly, kicked ass. Athair had no idea what he was in for. 

Quistis was unaccustomed to this confidence that now surged through her system. Relaxing for the first time in forty-eight hours, she sat back and geared up to enjoy the ride. 


	10. Rosin the Bow

"You may be obliged to wage war, but not to use poisoned arrows." ~ Baltasar Gracian

**Rosin the Bow**

_A movement is accomplished in six stages   
And the seventh brings return.   
The seven is the number of the young light   
It forms when darkness is increased by one.   
Change returns success   
Going and coming without error.   
Action brings good fortune.   
Sunset, sunrise. _(Pink Floyd)_  
  
___

"Any questions? Anyone? No? Brilliant." Without pausing, Xu wrapped up her lecture on changes to the SeeD Regulation Manual. She glanced at the timepiece on the wall of the theatre. Under fifty minutes. Her best time yet. Every member not on active duty elsewhere had been required to attend the meeting by penalty of a lowered rank. Every attendee was subsequently bored out of his or her skull. Xu at the top of the list. "You are all dismissed."

There were several groans as people dragged their newly awakened bodies from plastic chairs. Quite a few sighs, a few jubilant cheers, and a smattering of applause. Xu grinned at the SeeDs who blew her kisses from the back of the room. 

She chuckled and stepped down from the lectern, sliding her copy of the manual into a slim portfolio. Their gratitude could not have been accepted by a more sympathetic individual. It was not so long ago she had been a member of the audience, listening with half an ear as Cid droned about curfew hours. Wishing she was somewhere else, anywhere else, but Balamb Garden's large lecture hall.

When the room had pretty much cleared out, she hopped from the small dais and strode up the stairs to the double doors. Things had not changed much, however. She may be the one giving the lectures now, but that didn't make her enjoy it. It was a grand thing she had a healthy imagination.

Once in the main corridor, she shoved the folder under one arm while she attempted to tie back her hair with the other. The russet-coloured locks had been driving her insane lately. Brushing against her collar they were too short to ensnare in a ponytail but too long to remain out of her way. The next time she was in Deling, she was heading to the first salon she saw and hacking it off. She would cut it herself if she thought she could do a decent job of it. Waste of good money, she thought. Money that could be spent on other more essential items. Like shoes.

"Xu! Wait up!"

At the sound of the voice she paused but did not turn. Several cadets were forced to move around her as she stood in the middle of the hall.

"Thanks." Breathless from her scurry down the hall, Rinoa stopped next to the older woman. She gave her a soft half-smile. "I wasn't sure you'd hear me. It's crazy when classes get out around here, isn't it?" 

Xu raised her eyebrows and glanced over with a curt nod. "That it is."

"I, uh, I liked your speech." Suddenly losing her nerve, Rinoa shifted her weight. "It was interesting." At that she briefly closed her eyes and willed herself into the floor. It took all her courage to reopen them and meet the female's piercing gaze. Of all the dorky things to come out with.

"Oh yeah?" Xu drawled with an amused grin. Shaking her head, she recommenced her stride, altering the length slightly so the other girl could keep up. "Which part was your favourite?"

"Oh." Stumped, Rinoa had little choice but to hasten after her. "All of it, I guess."

"Right." She would have said more but, contrary to popular belief, Xu was not a complete bitch. She could quell her more sarcastic urges when need be. Quite frankly, the Caraway girl was not worth it.

Taking a sharp left, she stopped in front of he first in a line of vending machines. All of a sudden she had a craving for chocolate-covered raisins. She sensed rather than saw Rinoa hesitate beside her. "Regulation lectures aren't required for visitors, you know." Her eyes scanned the bright packages through the glass until she spotted her selection and dug into the pocket of her skirt for change.

"Oh, I know. But it's good to keep aware of all that's going on, even if I'm not a SeeD. Like the curfew changes and stuff. And it's all important, right? For global awareness?" Rinoa ordered herself to cease her babbling. She tended to go off on extensive tangents when she was nervous and Xu was probably the most intimidating female she had ever met. The last thing she wanted to do was give her the impression she was a total case. Because her hands had begun to sweat, she curled her fingers along her sides.

With a clunk of the mechanical device, the candy tumbled to the small repository at the bottom and Xu stooped to retrieve her prize. Leaning back against the window one ankle crossed over the other, she ripped open the box and poured several pieces into her palm. For a few moments she tilted her head and scrutinized her choices before selecting one and placing it in her mouth. She smiled and cocked her head. 

"That bored, huh?"

Rinoa immediately blushed. She shrugged her shoulders a little sheepishly and drew circles with the toe of her shoe on the floor in front of her. "Maybe a little."

Xu couldn't help but grin and relax. The girl was irrevocably artless; it was impossible to despise her on sentiment. She decided to give her a break, although it went against her core principles.

"So, what can I help you with?" Carefully choosing another piece of candy, Xu popped it in her mouth before looking over. 

"Huh?"

"I'm assuming you didn't chase me down the hall to compliment my lecture style and watch me scarf chocolate." Xu brushed off her hands after sliding the box into her pocket and retrieved her folder from where she'd placed it on top of the machine. "What did you need?"

Rinoa bit her lip and fiddled with the strap on her shoulder-bag. "It's just that I, erm, I was wondering if we could talk…about something."

"Shoot. Type A can wait." For some reason, Xu was immensely enjoying herself. And, she had to admit, a bit curious as to what the young civilian would be asking. She could count on one finger the number of times they'd conversed in the past.

"Type A?" Lost, Rinoa's brows crinkled.

"The Great Leonhart himself. Sorry, I know he's your boyfriend and all but the guy's as anal as all get-out. And that's coming from me." Xu's grin returned. "I'm sure you've noticed."

"That's kinda what I wanna talk about." Taking a deep breath, Rinoa faced her directly. "You see him more than me. Do you think he's been more, um, more…"

"Prickish?" Filled in Xu with an arched brow.

She was quick to come to Squall's defence. "No! No, not that. Just more standoffish, maybe. More distant." At Xu's caustic look, She tucked back a strand of hair and sighed. "So you have noticed then." 

"Nope, can't say I have." Xu very nearly chuckled at Rinoa's crestfallen expression as her mouth opened and shut. Tongue in cheek, she voiced her next words with as much mildness as she could muster. "Look, I'm no expert on the psychoses of Squall Leonhart and I pity the sucker who eventually takes on that position. But I do know this, he is the job. And when things go bad, so does he. The guy has no inter-personal skills. Once again, this is coming from me."

Despite the automatic excuses that were forming on her tongue, Rinoa did her best to digest the other woman's description. But it still did not sit well. She knew it was only half the story. It had to be. Had she not seen those glimpses of something more every now and then? She could not dismiss him as simply a lone wolf and move on. Not when she had made so much head way. Only now it was as if he were quickly back-tracking to what he was, what they were, before. And she did not know if she had the strength to breach his seemingly insurmountable walls again. She had a feeling it would take more than a haphazard siege.

"That's the way you see him." Rinoa zealously shook her head, eyes indignant. If she did not stand up for him, who would? "But there's so much more. He could be so much more."

"If you say so." Lazy, and already bored with the conversation, Xu did not appear surprised at the pleading outburst. She pulled herself from the glass, tapping her folder against her open palm. "But if you ask me, I think you're wasting your time. I wouldn't have put up with a second of the shit I've seen him deal you."

"You don't understand." Rinoa's voice was quiet but she held her head steady. "Squall may come off like a jerk sometimes but deep inside I know he's just hurting. I want to help him because…because I love him."

Have to give her full marks for performance, Xu reckoned inwardly. Her dark eyes casually appraised the girl. With the slight blush colouring her cheeks and her eyes wide and expressive, she looked like the typical young heroine of countless fairy-tales. Innocent, eternally optimistic, and, in Xu's opinion, just as insipid. It had been a long time since she'd last gazed at faraway rainbows. If ever.

"You're a better woman than I." Deciding she had no right corrupting the inexperienced teenager, she merely inclined her head in a diplomatic gesture and began to walk away. "Good luck."

With a soft sigh, Rinoa watched her make her way down the hall toward the elevators. Her fingers curled into fists and she gathered up what was left of her resolve. All that was left to do now was talk to the man himself. She would prove the older woman wrong. Squall did care, he just wasn't good at showing it. But she would help him to learn. And if it didn't work? Her heart dipped a little and she shook her head. That wasn't an option. It would be foolish to doom herself before she began. She'd never failed at getting through to him before, one way or another. There was no reason to suspect she would this time. 

Right?

Something was sitting on his head. Whatever it was he was sure it was the cause of the rampant pain rattling over his forehead and boogying into the bones of his cranium. He shifted and the weight not only increased on his skull but moved to other parts of his body he had not known existed before. As it was, he wished he had remained ignorant. 

Slowly, other senses began to return, though they did nothing to dull the pain prowling up his back and limbs. His tongue felt about five sizes too big for his mouth and he detected the distinct taste of bile and something even more disgusting. Though it nearly killed him, he reached out a hand to test his surroundings. In spite of the prickles of a million little pins, he realized he was laid out upon some kind of mattress. The sheets beneath him were thin and sticky. Probably due to the perspiration now pouring from every one of his pours. Brave and thinking it was best to get it over with quickly, he opened his eyes full blast.

Unable to speak for reasons unknown, his litany of curses came out as a strangled snarl. Immediately shutting his lids against the putrid light that had seemed like a brilliant torch to his unaccustomed retinas, he wheezed out a breath. Talk about a fucking deadly hangover. He couldn't remember whatever the hell he'd downed to make him feel like someone had been beating him with a stick all night. But once he did he was going to kill whoever had been responsible. As soon as he could figure out how to stand up.

For the first time in his life, he wished for death.

"You're awake."

The flat, inexpressive words were like salt on a fresh wound. If he had the strength he would have balled himself up into a fetal position. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. 

"Drink this." In the course of the sharp pain, he became aware of the lip of a small bottle at his lips. Obediently, they opened and he was rewarded with the cool, slightly burning liquid that slid down his throat and dribbled over his chin. When the bottle was pulled away the he realized his tongue had shrunk back to its normal width. That was something at least.

"I don't really know why I'm bothering to cure you." The voice continued. Feeling a little more cognizant, he fought to tune his ears into the tone. It was familiar but the everlasting jig of his nervous system prevented him from acknowledging the source. Cripes, he couldn't even tell if it was male or female. "You were so much more docile knocked out. Guess it's just my natural pity for wounded animals. Well, we all have our faults."

The bottle was replaced at his mouth and he eagerly drank, not caring how pathetic it seemed. Anything to clear his cotton-infused brain. However, this time his ability to taste had returned in full force and the flavour of the potion made him gag.

It seemed his ability to speak had also arrived. This time there was nothing to stop the streak of words properly clarifying his misery.

"Sounds like you're feeling better." The voice came in and out but he could now be certain it was feminine. 

"The hell is that?" His vocal chords rasped together in his raw throat. "You tryin' to kill me?"

There was silence for a few moments trailed by a soft chuckle. "If I wanted you dead I would have left you on the side of the road. Your colouring's returned, anyway. Have some more."

He wanted none of it and pushed the bottle away. Stubborn, he'd rather put up with the ravaging pain than another shot of the woman's answer to a panacea. The medicine he had imbibed was helping to decrease the intensity and the jig had slowed to a delicate ballet. He felt bold enough to try once more to open his eyes.

"Men are such babies," she intoned. "Some nutty sense of machismo you've got going on there, Almasy. And you're worried that I'm what's going to kill you."

The way she'd said his name, with a wry mix of dismay and amusement, had his brain snapping into focus. His swollen eyes struggled to follow. All they caught was a blur of colour. 

"Trepe."

"Don't sound so thrilled. I'd think you'd be more grateful. If it weren't for me you'd still be lying half-dead under the stairs." The hard mattress squeaked and shifted beneath him and he assumed she had stood up. "Want me to help you sit up?"

"No." The sympathy in her tone had him baring his teeth. He couldn't why say why her offer so repulsed him. 

The medicine had taken its effect and his vital organs had ceased their screams for attention. Using his shoulders and forearms, he pulled himself slowly back and up along the headboard, hissing through the pain. The un-worked muscles took up the abandoned banshee chorus. He caught the light snicker from the other occupant of the room and knew she was mocking his intrinsic male pride. Too busy to reply, he stored the anger in the back of his mind for another time.

Quistis bit her tongue and turned to replace the lid of the near-empty bottle. The price of potion in these parts of the globe was dear. The particular variety of tonic was rare and ingested only by the less than savoury or the less than law-abiding. She was lucky she had been able to secure some at all without too much hassle. The plucky kid in the alley behind the small motel had been a godsend. Otherwise she would have had to wait until they reached Dollet. 

Dropping onto the other single bed across from Seifer's, she slipped the precious brew into her light bag in case of future emergencies before turning back to face him. The frightening white-sheet pallor had started to fade back into his normal complexion and though his eyes were bloodshot and his pupils just the wrong side of dilation, they were clear. And it was equally obvious his mind and diaphragm were in perfect working order. The jury was still out over whether those were positive details.

"Where are we?"

Quistis smiled. "I think that's the first intelligent question you've asked me. We're in a little town called Messenia, about forty miles north of Timber."

Seifer frowned. The name chinked no memory in his recollection. He ran two shaking hands through his unwashed hair and grimaced. His skin itched for a cold shower.

"Mind telling me how we got here?"

"Simple, I drove. You mind telling me how I was able to find you drugged up in the basement of a warehouse?" Her voice was still amused but he detected something harder underneath and knew he wouldn't be getting away with a flippant answer for long. Quistis' tenacity was nothing if not dependable. He would have admired her for it if he was in a better mood. 

"Actually, I do. You got any soap in that bag of yours?" Her eyebrows lifted and little lines of annoyance formed around her mouth. Suddenly, the vice around his head eased. He almost directly felt a thousand times better. "I could really use a shower."

While she knew he was taking frank pleasure in irritating her she also believed he was speaking with the utmost honesty. The last time he'd bathed had most likely been in the prison - a lifetime ago. "Are you sure you can stand?"

"With the right incentive, I can do anything."

"All right." Indifferent, she reached back into the carryall and pulled out the small bottle of shampoo Mrs. Banagher had been thoughtful enough to give her. Tossing it at him, she dragged herself up and more firmly onto the bed, the wall at her back and legs stretched out comfortably before her. Giving a slight yawn, she sank into the pillows and crossed her ankles. "There's soap in the bathroom along with a few clean towels. Not much I can do in the way of a razor for now. Afterwards, we can poke around the local shops if you like, get you a change of clothes." Her eyes drifted shut.

Seifer sat on his own bed, shampoo in one hand, staring at her. He'd been expecting her to offer to help him get up. Apparently that wasn't the case. Damned if he was going to let her know she'd surprised him, he swore. Muttering under his breath, he shoved back the light coverlet and swung his body forward to that his feet dangled over the floor. He told himself he was only disappointed because she'd denied him the chance of mocking her offer.

"Shit." He persevered against the fresh waves of pain at the new sensation of standing. His feet were currently not his biggest fans.

Quistis barely flickered a lash. "Don't take too long. I want to make Dollet by late afternoon."

Ignoring her, he made his way carefully to the bathroom door, gradually letting the tenderness dissipate with deep breaths. His hand gripped the door knob like a life preserver.

"There's more potion in my bag, if you need it." Her words were bland.

"Thanks." The half-bitten syllable was the best he could come up with in retort.

"Oh, don't mention it. It's as much for me as it is for you. No offence, but you stink."

Seifer scowled and found enough power to slam the door behind him. He was sure she found herself terribly amusing. Could almost see the maddening little self-righteous smirk on her stuck-up features. 

"Fucking hilarious," he mumbled as he began to strip. The clothing practically slithered to the tile, covered in sweat. He was surprised the jeans and sweatshirt didn't retain their shape. He guessed she'd had a point after all. 

As he stepped under the cold needle spray of the cheap, but utilitarian shower head, Seifer almost buckled to his knees in relief. All was suddenly right with the world.

Disembarking from the train with a nimble hop, Selphie slid her sunglasses from the top of her head onto the bridge of her nose. She'd picked them up at the Balamb station and, with their pale blue frames, thought they lent her a most sophisticated aura. Very spy-movie-ish. 

She strolled out onto the platform and gazed around with a discerning eye. It was early morning and most of the people rushing about were the commuters from suburban Galbadia, briskly heading to taxis and public transit at the start of yet another work day in the city. Behind her, people pushed and bustled, some murmuring their discontent at her abrupt stop in the middle of pedestrian traffic. But she paid little attention. She was a SeeD. It was her job to scrutinize every aspect of her new assignment.

Irvine eventually joined her, moving unexpectedly lithe under the weight of both their luggage. He had no idea what the pixie of a girl could have packed to make hers so much heavier than his own. But he was astute enough not to ask. He tipped his hat politely to passers by, casting a few smiles about for good measure. It had been a good two months since he'd entered Deling's city limits. Not since his field exam. While he appreciated the pastoral beauty of Balamb, in a way it was good to be back.

At Selphie's other side, Zell was also eager for the start of a new mission. One that would hopefully involve some kind of action. His muscles weren't stretched enough for his liking with the near effort-less battles to be found in Garden's training centre. Nor was his mind. With a bit of luck, this would turn out to be a great exercise for them all.

"So," Selphie piped up. She swivelled around to face the other two, hands on hips, virtually knocking over a harried traveller who hadn't been paying full attention. The business worker shot her a dirty glance before continuing toward the escalators. "What's the game plan, boys?" 

"I don't know. Should we head first to Caraway's or the Esthar client?" Zell scratched the back of his head. 

Given the nature of the assignment and the ranks and personalities of the selected SeeDs, Squall had opted not to assign a specific squad leader. Doing so would have only caused tension among the team. He figured they each had enough of their own unique skills to get them through without designating a captain who would only be summarily ignored. Irvine had inwardly conferred with this decision, knowing that to put either Zell or Selphie in charge of the other would most likely have been an inauspicious move. However, when it came to strategic decisions, there was no one to take charge.

"I say we should head to the Esthar bloke," said Irvine, with a casual shrug. "General Caraway already trusts us for the most part. Besides, the temporary Esthar garrison is closest to here."

"Sounds good!" Selphie gave him a heartening salute. "I've been dying to meet him anyway. Ellone says he's the most terrifying man she's ever met. Even Sir Laguna's petrified of him." She rubbed her hands together. "I can't wait to dig up some real dirt." Her eyes shone with the possibilities.

Zell exchanged glances with Irvine and rolled his eyes. He'd never understand the female gender for as long as he lived and five minutes with this one was enough to deter him from ever trying. Her brain was as sadistic as it got. No matter what this Murphy's schemes were, he didn't think even he deserved the warped machinations she was capable of coming up with. It gave him the willies just thinking about it.

Arriving at the top of the escalators, Irvine spotted a tourist vendor that sold maps to the city. Though he already pretty well knew his way around, he reasoned it would be a good idea to pick one up anyway. After the war, the city had changed proportions dramatically. The first free and fair democratic elections in nearly twenty years were set for a date in the next month. The general atmosphere was bound to be fairly chaotic.

He departed his intentions to the others and motioned for them to wait for him, leaving the cases behind. Already reaching for his wallet, he strolled over to the vendor, glancing at the daily commotion with a sort of affection. Deling City was one of those places you hated while you were there, but longed for with a marked pang when you were gone. He loved every inch of the city, the grime, the politics, the sidewalk swindlers, and the artificial glitz of the nightclubs. It was grand in its entirety and disgusting in its parts. What more could one want?

"Man, I hate this city," complained Zell who had followed him over. "It smells and the people are rude. I hope we don't get stuck on some kinda frickin' diplomacy job. The whole place makes me wanna kick some ass."

Amused, Irvine, flipped through the display, aware of the observant eyes of the merchant upon them. "Buck up, Zell. It ain't so bad. You just gotta get used to it is all. Kick back and enjoy the sights that are."

"Yeah right." Zell's look was dubious. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Name one good thing."

"How's about the currency?" Irvine finally selected the most comprehensive map he could find, and picked up a bus schedule while he was at it. One never knew what may come in handy. Shooting a friendly smile to the vendor, he glanced over at Zell from the corner of his eye. "The exchange rate is nice and low compared to Balamb's standards." The seller snorted at that but took his money with a responding smile.

"I guess." Still doubtful, Zell remained in the funk that had fallen upon him since he'd caught wind of the ever-present pollution that hazed over the entire area. "It's still disgusting, though."

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it, my friend. You just haven't received a proper introduction." The map protected by the deep pocket of his coat, Irvine clapped an affable arm around the other male's back. "If we have time later, I bet I can change your mind."

With a responding grin, Zell was prepared to take on the challenge when his words were cut off by an all-too notorious shriek. His feet were running forward before his synapses could demand the movement.

Seeing as there were but three shops in the entire centre of Messenia, it did not take long for Quistis and Seifer to wrap up their little spree. She'd scored herself a change of underwear and a fresh shirt to replace the one borrowed from Mrs. Banagher's daughter. Along with a pair of trainers that fit. She winced at the poor quality of make and design but they would do until she could have Garden wire her some more money in Dollet. Her triple triad winnings would only take them so far.

Impatient to get moving, she tapped a sneakered foot against the rug on the floor of the motel room while she waited for Seifer to emerge from the bathroom once more. The only window was about half a foot all the way round so she wasn't worried over the possibility of his escape. The bulk of his frame may have trimmed down a bit during his prison stay but not so much that he could fit through the tiny space. She was safe enough on that count anyway. Unfolding her arms, she glanced at her replaced watch. Another present from her Timberian benefactor.

"Hurry it up, Almasy! For crying out loud, this isn't your first SeeD gala, stop primping in front of the mirror, already."

"Yes, duchess. Your wish is my command." Mood extremely heightened the more sour hers turned, Seifer swung open the squeaky door and stepped out. In truth, he'd been ready the past five minutes. But the opportunity to rile her up had been to tempting to turn down. He had been able to sense her agitation seeping into the wall.

His face creased in a wide grin and he wiggled his eyebrows. "Miss me?"

"Oh, stuff it. I don't know what you're so happy about." Her brows drew together when she took in his insolent grin. Clean and shaven with a brand-new pair of jeans, he looked almost halfway decent. She forced her eyes to remain on his face, not caring for the way she'd immediately noticed how well the inexpensive denim fit. Her scowl deepened. "With any luck, you'll be back under Garden supervision within the next twelve or so hours."

"Your point?"

Quistis saw an angle left open. While she knew it was immature, she couldn't hold herself back. "Excited to see Squall again, are you? I've always wondered quite what your relationship consisted of."

"Jealous?" Seifer was quick on the draw, too revitalized to bother taking the obvious bait.

"Perhaps." She let her head tilt almost bashfully. "But not of who you think."

"Why, Trepe. I didn't know you cared." His words were a low arrogant drawl. Quistis dug her nails into her palm to prevent herself from puking.

"What was I supposed to do? You were my student and then my charge. I couldn't exactly jump you on the spot." It was an effort, but she managed to keep her timbre soft and slightly coy. Her other hand slipped into her pocket as she took a step forward.

Seifer practically choked. He wasn't daft enough to buy her sudden innocent act but he had no clue as to what she was planning. He hadn't seen her in action sufficiently to be able to predict her movements. His eyes narrowed and tried to drill through her forehead to the gears of her mind beneath the smooth skin. He came up empty.

"All this time, huh?" He kept his voice nonchalant, leering down at her. "I won't lie to you and tell you I hadn't noticed."

"Was I that obvious?" She could sense his instinctive suspicion rising and knew the time to act was imminent. Quistis ran a light finger down the centre of his chest, eyes wide and locking on his. "Sometimes, I just can't help myself." Their bodies brushed and she knew she had him.

Seifer's mind blanked for a full second. By the time it had cleared again, her hands had caught both his wrists and twisted them behind his back. They made quick work of the metal handcuffs she'd kept hidden in the pocket of her loose pants, manacling his wrists and rendering him under her complete control.

He was not impressed. And not just because the metal dug into his wrists. His skin wasn't the only thing she'd bruised.

The look Quistis gave him was nothing short of triumphant. The way to a man, she'd learned, was through his ego. Especially this man. 

"Didn't know you were into bondage." Not to be deterred for long, Seifer jerked back his head and gave her a long look full of exaggerated. "Darling, all you had to do was ask."

She wrinkled her nose and abstained from a reply. Yanking on his arms, she re-adjusted her bag and motioned him forward. 

"Shut up. I've got more lead in this bag from your little canine friends in Timber than all of Garden receives in a year. I wouldn't advise messing with me." Their eyes met and they shared glares of mutual hatred. "Now walk."


	11. Sometimes in Winter

"Why is life so tragic; so like a little strip of pavement over an abyss. I look down; I feel giddy, I wonder how I am ever to walk to the end." ~ Virginia Woolf

**Sometimes in Winter**

_It sure been a cold, cold winter   
My feet been draggin' 'cross the ground   
And the fields has all been brown and fallow   
And the springtime take a long way around_

_Sometimes I wanna wrap my coat around you   
Sometimes I wanna keep you warm   
Sometimes I wanna wrap my coat around you   
Sometimes I wanna but I can't afford you _(Rolling Stones)

Heart in his throat Irvine arrived on the scene just in time to find Selphie standing jubilantly over a scrawny looking youth, one boot balanced on his chest to keep him down. Her face flushed, one hand on her hip the other tapping her nunchaku against her shoulder, she tossed her hair and glared at her captive. Irvine's pulse slowed back to normal, nearly laughing at himself for imagining the worst. Her startled scream had propelled him into motion without thinking.

Next to him, Zell shoved his hands in the rear pockets of his shorts and rolled back on his heels. He whistled as he took in the sight. Poor kid.

"What's going on?"

Selphie's head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed. "This little brat here tried to take my bag." She ground her heel in to punctuate her words. "Not very nice." 

The boy let out a howl of agony, drawing the attention of passers by. Most turned their heads and gave them a wide berth. SeeD. Move along, move along.

"How stupid are you, dude?" Zell gave the thief a look full of disdain. "Baaad move pickin' on her." For effect, he gave a light shudder. 

Taking a few steps closer, Irvine slid his hands in his own coat pockets and exchange glances with Selphie before turning back to the younger male. 

"Do you always rob from innocent females, or is this just a one-time thing?"

The boy shook his head vehemently. Eyes wide and panicked they seemed to search the area rapidly, as if hoping an angel would swoop down and take him away. 

"No, I-I swear. I'm no thief." His voice wavered. "Please, sir. I'll never ever do it again. I promise."

"I don't believe you." Cocking her head, Selphie pressed her foot harder at his rib cage. "We can't let you get away until we're sure. Irvy, teach him a lesson."

"Nah," Zell spoke up. "He ain't worth the energy. I say we just hand 'im over to the cops." If anything this possibility frightened the lad even more. He began to struggle. 

"Let him up, Selph," suggested Irvine. "He looks like he's choking. And we wouldn't want him to pass out on us now would we?" Though his tone was mild and almost congenial, his mouth turned down in a frown and his forehead creased. The more he observed their hostage the greater his misgivings. He didn't have the appearance of an average pickpocket for one thing. His clothing was too clean, his hair decently cut, and his shoes were of a popular and expensive make. Of course, they could always be stolen. 

With a sigh showing her lack of enthusiasm, Selphie moved away to let her attempted mugger rise. She held her weapon with both hands out in front as a warning.

"So," placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, Irvine ensured he wouldn't be able to escape. "You mind tellin' us what you're up to?" 

He guessed his age to be around fourteen or fifteen, not too much younger than themselves. However, he was noticeably shorter. Besides a few scrapes due to his tumble to the ground, he didn't look to mussed either. Irvine surveyed his face for any outward signs of hunger or poverty. He had spent enough time in this city to recognise the scent of a street kid. And this guy just wasn't displaying that. Bony, but not malnourished. All he got from him was fear, his shoulders quaked under his grip. There was none of the belligerence Irvine knew one had to have to survive in the alleys of Deling. He was too green.

"Nothin'," the boy wiped a hand under his nose, his eyes lowered to the ground. "I was bored. An' some guys dared me. I didn't mean nothin' by it. Sorry."

"Not sorry enough," Zell cut in, standing next to Selphie. "Don't you know stealing is wrong? Didn't your ma teach you anything? You're just lucky we've got better things to do else you'd be in big trouble, buddy."

"That's right. I'm in a good mood today, boyo, so I'm gonna let you off with a warning." Irvine's long fingers tightened their hold. "But if I catch you tryin' to pinch from a lady again, I won't be so cordial. You understand?"

"Yes, sir. I got it. No more takin' from girls, I swear it." The kid raised his chin and vowed, bobbing his head like a puppet. "I learned my lesson."

"Make sure it stays that way." Irvine stood back and watched him scamper away into the crowds of suits and workmen.

"Keep off the streets!" Selphie yelled after him. "Dumb kid." She turned to replace her nunchaku with the rest of her things before facing the two men. Straightening her shoulders and dusting off her hands, she grinned. "Not bad, boys. Gold stars!"

"You think he's gonna do it again?" Zell broached his question to Irvine.

"Probably, but not to anyone who looks like our Selphie. She plain broadsided him."

"Just doing what I do best!" Selphie chirruped with a salute. 

He bent over to retrieve his own light carryall and then frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"My wallet." Irvine patted his coat pocket and found it empty. He let loose with a wry grin and chuckled. "He must've taken it. The little bugger." The moniker was born more of amusement than anger.

"Geez." Zell punched a fist into his opposite hand. "I told ya I hated this city. And that's exactly why. Don't get freaks like that in Balamb." 

"What should we do?" Not too concerned, Selphie hopped from one foot to the other. Her eyes gleamed. "Should we go after him?"

"Let's continue to the embassy. There wasn't much in there anyway. I'll report the missing I.D. tonight." Still puzzling over the incident, Irvine shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs and motioned to the others to lead the way. He'd brood over it more later. "Lay on, Agent Tilmitt."

After awakening in an infested, low-scale motel room, his system chock full of unidentified drugs, Seifer didn't think it was likely to ever feel that sore again. He was wrong. No matter which way he positioned himself, it was impossible to find an arrangement that suited him. The cab of the truck felt constricted, his knees bunched up against the glove compartment. The handcuffs certainly weren't helping. In fact, the only thing that made the drive even remotely endurable was the knowledge that his constant squirming was pissing the driver off.

"Can't you crack a window or something? For fuck's sake I can't breathe." Seifer complained loudly, shifting against the seatbelt once more. 

He tried to bend his knee and sit so he was facing the door but the position he ended up in was just as awkward as the last. His shoulder did not seem to be very pleased with the movement either.

"Maybe if you'd quit wriggling like a five-year-old." Quistis replied automatically, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. The air was pretty stale but feeling childish herself she decided to keep the windows shut out of spite. He wasn't the only uncomfortable one.

"Ouch, what a dig. How many times have I heard _that _ before?" He rolled his eyes and twisted his frame back into a normal posture, back against the seat, legs stretched out on the floor under the dash. "Can you at least take off the handcuffs? They're chafing like a bitch."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer." His voice was reproachful, high-pitched and she glanced over at him. He'd contorted his face in what she assumed was an impression of her.

"Kiss ass."

Seifer snorted a contemptuous laugh. "I ain't that desperate." Leaning forward he reached out to occupy himself with the dials, flipping on the air-conditioning. "Get any music in here?"

Immediately, she slapped his bound hands away and switched off the vents. "What do you think?"

"Radio's still down, eh?"

Surprised by his attempt at normal conversation, her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. "I believe Esthar has a team working on restoring the interference problem." 

The truck itself didn't have a transmitter installed. Digital cable was the only system currently available and fancy as the rig was, its owner apparently hadn't gone in for that expensive option.

Quistis glanced at the rear-view mirror and flashed her signal before merging onto the route that would take them directly to Dollet. The air was suddenly cooler, the desert long behind them. Instead of golden fields and grain elevators the landscape was pervaded by forests and rambling rivers. Mountains rose in the distance like beacons of hope. She said a little prayer to the powers that be for getting them safely out of Galbadia. Already her mood was lightening. 

"So tell me, duchess." Angling his body toward her, Seifer spoke amicably. "How long have you been obsessed with sex?"

"Excuse me?" Her hands tightened on the wheel and she shot him her most displeased expression. The tension was back, nailing right between her shoulder blades. "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about."  
"Oh yeah? Then what was that back in Messenia? And at the pub? Could've fooled me. I thought Ms. Perfect Instructor Trepe was above such activities." His tone was lazy and she didn't have to look to know he was smirking at her. 

"I'm not an instructor. Besides, I don't have to account for my behaviour to you, Almasy." Her words were tight and she could have cursed. She could not let the idiot get under her skin. It was humiliating how easy he could, especially since she knew he did it on purpose. "If anything, you should be prostrating yourself in front of me."

"Yeah right. You'd really like that wouldn't you?" Not to be sidetracked, he leaned his cheek against the headrest. He could tell the directness of his gaze disturbed her. "So how long?"

She chose not to endorse his insolence with a reply. If he wanted to play it this way that was fine. It didn't mean she had to deign herself to participate in his little games. Besides, she knew nothing annoyed him more than being ignored. Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she pressed down a little harder on the accelerator.

He watched her for a few long moments, finding himself inwardly criticising every move she made. Hands at a perfect ten and two on the wheel, posture straight, eyes constantly roaming from windscreen to mirror to gauges. It was disgusting. She turned something as natural as driving into yet another practice in perfection.

"Should you be driving without your glasses?"

"If you're suggesting you take over, the answer is no." Shooting him a quick look, she rolled her eyes.

"For crying out loud, Trepe, what's your problem? I was just asking a question." He shook his head and changed positions again, scowling out the window. "I'm a little worried about saving my neck, y'know. Today's not a good day for eating pavement."

"I can see fine." The words came out between grinding teeth and a clenched jaw. 

Quistis yanked the wheel and moved over into the fast lane. The rear of the truck jerked but otherwise was fine. It was good thing the route was fairly vacant, else she might have slammed into another vehicle in her red-blinded haste.

"Where are they anyway? Why aren't you fiddling with them like you always do when you're nervous."

"I'm never nervous." She batted his hands away from the knobs of the control panel once more. "And I lost them in Timber. Some time between falling asleep at a stink hole and rescuing your butt from a resistance faction with a world domination complex." Her elbow snapped out in reaction when he leaned over to check the gauges.

He winced knowing if he'd been in better shape, the jab wouldn't have dug as much. Feeling her wrath, he moved back to his original position, but not without noting the speed of the vehicle. Better than he expected, just the other side of the legal limit. So there was hope yet.

"Some nice friends you have there," she commented after ensuring the truck stayed on course.

"I never said they were my friends." Absently, he rubbed his side.

"But you never denied it either. Just what did you think you were going to accomplish?"

"None of your business," he countered, less distracted this time. "The world isn't going to fall apart if you don't have your manicured hands mixed up in everything." Seifer rolled his eyes. "Leave off for once. You may not like what you find."

"It is my business. For the duration of this mission, you are my business, along with every pile you wallow in." There was that instructor tone again, he silently ridiculed. And it sounded as if she'd been spending some time with Xu. How quaint, his inner sarcastic monologue jeered. So it was to be a pleasant jaunt through the countryside. Ante up.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? I like wallowing in piles. I like getting dirty. And even more, I like watching your expression when I do it. You're such a little princess sometimes, you know that? 'Ew, don't touch me, you might give me a disease.'" He scoffed. "The disease you're so afraid of, it's called a life. It wouldn't kill you to get one. Garden isn't the puritanical organization you make it out to be."

"I'm a princess?" Her jaw opened and closed. Any second now he knew her eyes would start to blaze. "You have no idea how hard I work, of what I've been through in the past. You know nothing about me. Or Garden, for that matter. It's not the evil institution _you _ make it out to be. I'd advise you to keep your sour grapes to yourself and shut up."

"Yes, your Grace." Easing back, he propped up a sneakered foot on one leg. At the very least he could make an appearance of nonchalance, despite the seatbelt burrow into his ribs at a most awkward angle. He was going to get the name of the bastard that invented handcuffs, go to where he was buried, dig him up, and burn his body.

"So to go back to our former conversation, maybe you wouldn't be so obsessed with sex if you were having it."

"Seifer." It was a low warning. One that he chose to pay no attention to whatsoever. To call Quistis exasperated would have been saying it lightly.

"I'm serious." Moving his foot to rest on the dash, he leaned forward. "It'd get rid of all that tension build-up you've got going on."

"I am not discussing this with you. It's ridiculous." Quistis wanted to bang her head against the steering wheel. Or better yet, bang his head against the windscreen. It took all of her strength to hold back and concentrate on the road. "Put your foot down."

He scowled but obeyed. 

Honestly, she thought. It was like minding a child. All of a sudden she felt a massive sympathy for Edea. What they all must have put her through. The woman ought to be canonised.

Seifer stared out the window, his mind drifting in and out of focus. The truck was getting stuffier by the minute and Quistis' attitude wasn't helping. She kept pestering him with questions he didn't have answers to. He couldn't remember a thing about Timber, the drugs had seen to that. He remembered leaving the cellar and going to the warehouse. Zone had wanted to introduce him around, had said the guys had all looked up to him. He'd figured, why not? Give the schoolmarm something to bitch about. After that his memory blurred. 

Zone had introduced him to the leader of the whole shebang, who'd preceded to interrogate him on his loyalties. Seifer had shrugged most of it off. He wasn't joining anything at this point. Then he recalled something about a revolution. Some kind of violent insurrection. Which was insane given the circumstances. Timber simply did not have the resources. The guy had told him something else too, something that niggled at the back of his mind. He didn't suppose it mattered now. Obviously, he had not taken Seifer's sarcasm calmly. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the roadside motel.

"Idiot!" Quistis swore and pressed a hand to the horn. "Does the no-passing sign mean nothing to you?" She honked one more time for good measure. Not because she thought it would do anything but because it made her feel better. "Ugh. I hate Galbadian drivers."

"Somebody needs to get laid." It was a mumble but she picked up the basic gist. He could feel her practically teem with fury. 

"Seifer Almasy! If you don't shut up right now, so help me I will—." 

"You'll what?" He cut her off, turning back around to regale her with a raised brow. "What could you possibly do to me?"

She took a breath and tried counting to ten. Made it to three before he spoke up and destroyed whatever progress she'd made in controlling her temper.

"I see it this way. You're like, what? Half my size? Even with that precious whip of yours there ain't much you can do to stop me." Reckoning he had her, he bent his legs and pushed his feet up until they rested on the dashboard. He heard her snarl and he grinned. Easy victory for his side. 

"How do you know I'm not junctioned? The shape you're in, one dose of thunder magic and you'd be permanently fried." And why exactly was she participating in his immature little battle of wills? She had no clue but she couldn't stop herself either.

"Because." Seifer drawled out the word to its full capacity. "You would have already used it on me. You wouldn't have thought it against the rules to cast a simple sleep spell. Don't forget, I know how you operate, duchess."

Now that rankled much more than she would have liked. His opinion was essentially meaningless. 

"I doubt there's much you could do with those on your wrists." She nodded to the metal cuffs.

"You'd be surprised." Unable to resist, he leered, dirty suggestion in his eyes. "I have practice."

"I doubt it." For one crazy moment she'd had the most horrid urge to laugh. "I know all too well how you operate. I suspect a bullet would do the trick."

"You wouldn't shoot me."

A smile teased the edges of her lips as she thought back to the previous evening. If only he knew. "You'd be surprised."

"I doubt it," he mocked back, sneering. He lifted both hands to run through his hair. "Predictable and transparent, is The Trepe. No way you'd be able to explain that to Garden."

Quistis smirked, glad he'd given the opening she'd been waiting for. "Seifer, you're not as critical to the world, or Garden, as you seem to think. Many would have been fine with leaving you to rot in the D-District. Your disposal wouldn't exactly be thwarting the precarious world order."

Did she think he didn't realise that already? Did she think he was oblivious to what waited for him once they got to the island? He may be a perennial screw-up but he wasn't stupid. 

"Makes no damn difference either way to me." He shrugged a shoulder, expression stony. "It's all a load of political shite."

"It should make a difference, it's your life on the table. If I were you, I'd be wanting to save it." Lifting a hand off the wheel, she brushed aside her fallen hair and regarded him sombrely. "You'd do better making a good impression if you cooperated."

"Well, you're not me. And frankly, you know nothing. So why don't you keep your mouth shut and drive like a good little SeeD?" With that he jerked himself away so that his back was facing her.

"You know what you need?" She divided her time between watching the road and watching her passenger. It was obvious he was in no way eager to discuss anything with her but she was sick of playing guessing games. They had two more hours before they reached Dollet; she planned on spending them prodding him until he gave her what she wanted. With a very large stick if she had to.

"Let me guess," he grumbled. "An attitude adjustment. Blow it out your ear."  
"No, you need to quit acting like the victim. 'Everyone hates me,'" she mimicked, scrunching up her face. "'Everyone is against me. No one understands me. It wasn't my fault. Poor me. Boo hoo.'" Tossing her head she returned her voice to normal levels. "Grow up."

"I need to grow up? Me?" Temper flaring, he swung back around, which caused the bench beneath them to shake. "Fuck that, Ms. Paragon of Maturity. Wake up to the real world already. Don't you get it? All I am is a symbol, a scapegoat. It doesn't matter how many lily-white asses I kiss. I'm a criminal because I failed. End of story. Save your idealistic spew for your adoring fans."

"So you're just going to give up? That's it, show's over?" Her fingers gripped the wheel like doing so would keep him in line. "It's not idealism, Almasy. It's survival. Maybe if you gave me some straight answers once in awhile and didn't run off with old war buddies, I'd be more willing to help you."

"Give it a rest. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't want your help? Anyone's help? That maybe I just don't give a rat's ass anymore?"

It wasn't his words that scared her. It was the expression on his face. Cold, hard, eyes glittering with something she couldn't describe. Except for the threat of violence emanating off his frame, he was nothing like the man she used to know. There was none of the defiant student that used to taunt her from the back of the classroom. Back then there had always been a touch of amusement, of mutual challenge. He was a bully, but one with dreams. Even throughout the whole war, he'd never looked at her in such a way. It wasn't defeat - she doubted he'd ever truly give up, no matter what he said – and it wasn't hatred either. She sensed none of their old competition. If anything, it was empty. As if he felt nothing at all.

"I think you do." Quistis replied quietly. "And if I'm wrong, then I'm very sorry for you."

"Whatever." He flipped back over, despising the flash of pity on her face. Her wistful eyes pissed him off and he didn't want to deal with any of that. He was a man. He'd fight his own battles. "Like I said, it doesn't matter. What I did, what you did, it's all the same anyway."

Silence befell the cab once again as they contemplated this. Neither was desirous of broaching the subject he'd proposed. Save the highway philosophy for another day, Quistis thought wryly. Right or wrong, good or evil, none of it was making too much sense any longer. There was a time when she'd been so sure. 

But that was before the chaos of Ultimecia.

"Least I have an excuse," Seifer spoke up. He decided to swing the tone of the conversation back round to his comfort zones. Where he could control it. "I was possessed."

"Right." Easing up on the accelerator, Quistis tried to catch up with the change on dialogue. She gave him a hard look, almost as if she could find the truth hidden in the lines of his mouth, or the flicker of his eyelashes. Whatever she had been looking for, it wasn't there. He leaned back and stretched out, closing his eyes. 

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"Why not? Isn't that the rumour?" His mouth curved in amusement. "I'm the victim, remember? It wasn't my fault. If that's what Garden wants to think, I don't mind going along for now. Sure as hell is what got me outta prison."

"Is it the truth?" She couldn't see it, Seifer possessed beyond his control. It just didn't fit somewhere. Not the man who'd purposely flouted every semblance of authority for as long as she'd known him. There was more to the situation than she knew she could grasp. But she wanted to. She couldn't say why, but she really wanted to.

Just as Seifer couldn't say why he responded to her question like he did. He told himself later it was because he'd been tired, and had wanted a way to shut her up. He didn't care about her estimation of his character, didn't care if she thought him weak enough to be taken and used as a puppet. If it got him out of trouble, took the heavy-handed guilt from his own hide, then what did one woman's thoughts, especially this woman's thoughts, count for? At least, that's what he told himself. Because they did count, they always had. 

He opened his eyes to grant her one last cool glance. The glint in his eyes, while reassuring in its familiarity, did not do much to answer any of the zillions of questions that pranced up and down her tongue.

"What do you think?" Saying this, he shifted away and shut his eyes again, signalling the end of their discussion, as it were. "Wake me up when we get there, will ya?"

From time to time, Quistis peered over at him as she continued along the straightaway. She sighed and tried to refocus. 

Strike Two.

By the time Xu returned to the main office, after taking a leisurely stroll around the perimeter of Garden that is, Squall had worked himself into a nice comfortable rage. Not only had she left him alone to deal with Galbadian presidential candidate Vito Tarquin but somehow his access code to the inner office had become defunct. Hence they'd been forced to meet in the central area. 

"Balamb Garden cannot take an official position at this time," Squall droned in response to the man's request for support in the heated campaign race. 

They sat side by side in two of the chairs fabric-covered chairs next to the coffee pot in the waiting room. Squall hated diplomacy. He hated it even more when he didn't have the security and power of a desk in front of him. Fortunately, Tarquin appeared to be taking the situation in stride.

"I know, I know," agreeable as ever, the older man waved both hands in the air as a symbol of peace. "I'm not asking you to make a public stance, per say." He smiled then, full out, and Squall caught the glint of a single gold tooth. The lines of his face were youthful, though Squall knew he must have been pushing sixty years of age. He was tanned, in shape and dressed to the nines in a pin-strip grey suit and subtle green tie. His hazel eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. His pores oozed charisma and self-assurance. For all counts and purposes he was a likeable character. If elected, Squall knew Galbadia would be in good hands. Which was the problem.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Squall wondered how he could end the meeting with as little offence as possible. Tact was not listed up high on his CV.

"I'm not asking to distribute buttons. All I want is a pledge, if you will. An understanding that when I do win I will have the full backing of your institution. It would go far in ensuring the efficiency of my government." As Tarquin spoke he gesticulated with his hands. The file spread open and balanced on his knees threatened to slip to the carpet. "Along with the lack of support for my opponent. Your continued ambivalence in the upcoming election is accepted, in fact, appreciated by my staff."

A politician to the core, thought Squall sardonically. 

The elevator door opened and they both looked up, one in relief, the other in smooth pleasure. Xu walked through casually, chucked her folder on to her desk, and walked over to the coffee machine before she bothered to bestow either with a glance. Reaching for a clean navy blue mug, she raised a surprised brow and nodded her head in greeting.

"Ah, the woman of the hour." Rising from his chair to his full height of a perfect six feet, Tarquin moved toward the counter with one ringless hand outstretched. "You must be the real brains behind the operation, Headmaster Kramer's right hand man, or woman rather, which is even better. My name is Vito Tarquin, I own Tarquin Industries, based in Deling City."

"Yes, I know who you are." Xu poured out her liquid caffeine and tucked her hair back before she turned to shake his hand. "The paper man." Her smiled was caustic but he paid no attention. 

"That's right." His laugh was hearty and most, she suspected, found it contagious. "Best quality this side of Esthar." He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair modestly. "Your commander was kind enough to entertain my ambitions, as dull as they are. Once again, I want to thank your institution for granting your valuable time. I look forward to dealing with you again in the future." 

Charming, she thought, and very slick. It was surprising he wasn't at the top of the polls in the race. He would be, she knew, and if so, it would be most advantageous, not to mention, lucrative, for Balamb to be on his side. Therefore, her expression and phrasing was polite. 

"Just as we look forward to dealing with you, whenever possible." Her smile this time was brighter. "If you'll excuse us, we have some important issues to discuss over a mundane Garden. Thanks for dropping by. I'll have a student see you out."

The man was sharp enough to sense when he was being handled but keen enough to admire her for it. "No trouble, no trouble. I know the way. Until we meet again." He shook her hand again and then Squall's before recovering his briefcase and heading toward the door. 

"Good luck, Mr. Tarquin."

"And good luck to you," dimples winking he gave her a light salute. "Commander Leonhart."

"Goodbye, sir."

The moment the lift door closed, Squall folded his arms over his chest. Rounded on her. "Where were you?"

"You know I had the monthly regulation meeting this morning." Xu leaned back against the counter and sipped her coffee. "I came as soon as I could. Since we lost Maia in the Timber bombing, we're both going to have to suck it up and deal with people for awhile. Until we can find a replacement."

"My pass code doesn't work."

"What do you mean?" She lifted her brows. "Didn't you get the memo?"

His forehead creased and he shifted his stance onto the other hip. "No."

"I sent it out first thing. There was a breach of security and I had them changed last night. It must have been after you left." Tongue in cheek, she gave him an open-eyed look. "I sent you an encoded email."

"I couldn't get in the office, so I couldn't check my mail." 

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. Was there a problem?" Xu smiled when he glowered at her, eyes radiating hostility. "You should have paged me."

"Whatever. It's fine." Impatient, he dropped his arms and headed to the office door. When it was clear she wasn't moving or going to administer his new code, Squall turned halfway round. "The code?"

"My, aren't we tetchy today?" Pulling herself from her relaxed position, Xu set her mug on her desk next to the computer and walked over to punch in the numeric digits. The door slid open immediately. He didn't bother to thank her before he went in, the door sliding shut at his back. 

"Very tetchy indeed." Enjoying every second of it, she hummed as she sauntered back to her desk and slipped into her worn leather chair. She took another drink from the mug before booting up the computer and turning on the slim, high-tech monitor. Her mood had vastly improved. 

A few minutes later, just as she was getting into a good session of Intergalactic Warriors, the elevator doors pinged musically. Pausing the game at a crucial point, Xu looked up to see Rinoa. Since she was feeling uncharacteristically charitable, she gave the female a genuine smile and amicable greeting.

"Oh! Hi, Xu!" Rinoa's dark eyes lightened to match the curve of her lips. "Is Squall around?"

"That he is." Xu rolled her eyes in the direction of his door. "He's a bit narky, however. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was PMSing. But you know how he is. Leonhart will be Leonhart." She waved her hands vaguely in the air, her tone full of disinterest. "Why don't you sit down and catch me up on all the latest Garden gossip? I feel so out of the loop these days."

It was tempting, the offer of a nice girly chat. Now that Selphie and Quistis were both gone on missions she didn't really have any female companions to hang out with. She'd never considered the idea that Xu could become one of them.

"Aren't you busy?"

"Please," Xu shrugged, blasé. "It can wait. I'm just a secretary. Sit, talk, and don't leave out the juiciest bits."

Rinoa was about to comply when the inner office door opened and Squall stood before them, a troubled frown marring his smooth features. Xu noted how Rinoa's eyes lit up at the sight of him. His own glazed over the younger woman before landing on her.

"Where are this week's accepted mission requests?"

"You mean, I was supposed to go through them?" Adopting her own troubled expression, Xu bit at her lip. "I thought you wanted to do all that from now on. I can get them for you tomorrow, if you like. You should have said something."

Eyes darting from one to the other, Rinoa hesitated in speaking up right away. But when Squall's silent frustration brought a break in the conversation, she gathered her courage and stood her ground. 

"Squall, if you have a few minutes, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Can't it wait?" He rubbed a hand at his forehead. "Why don't we meet for dinner or something."

And how many times had she heard that in the past? And how many times had he stood her up. With Xu's gaze upon her she shook her head. "I'd like to talk now, please. Since there are no new missions to organise, I'm sure you can spare the time."

"All right." Turning on his heel, Squall returned to the enclosure of his office, leaving the door open.

"How do you not beat him?" Xu asked from her chair, head against her fist. "Like daily?"

Brows drawn together, Rinoa opened her mouth to give an automatically, emotionally driven answer. Unexpectedly, she thought better of it. Instead she closed her mouth, widened her eyes, and shrugged.

After the door had shut, Xu leaned forward to switch on the intercom. Screw Nida, Garden's infamous gossip hound, she had first class tickets to the real deal. 

"Starfish!" Selphie took a running leap and collapsed spread-eagle, face-down on the soft mattress of the hotel bed. She wriggled until her face pressed into the down of the pillows. "Mmmm. I could stay here forever."

Zell collapsed onto the bed nearest the window and sighed in agreement. It had been a long, boring day of meetings and introductions and appointments. He felt more exhausted than he would've if he'd spent the same amount of hours in the training centre. Sitting around and listening took more out of him than the most strenuous of exercise. He wanted to curl up under the quilts and pretend it was all over. 

Taking the unoccupied middle bed, Irvine dropped his bag on the floor and sat back against the head rest, swinging his legs around to stretch out before him. 

"What's y'all's thoughts on room service?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. Do they have pizza?" Zell dropped backwards so his eyes were on the ceiling, his legs dangling over the side. "I'm starved, man. I could eat two."

"I don't know." Irvine removed his hat and ran his fingers over the top of his head. "The menu's on the table by the door." 

The two males looked over at it in unison, measured the distance. Calculated their desire for food and their need for rest. The latter won out. 

"Tilmitt's closer." Zell rolled onto his side and shut his eyes.

"Selphie, darlin', would you mind…"  
The female swivelled her neck and levelled Irvine with a blank stare. Making her point, she wordlessly moved her face back to the pillows. He sighed and decided his belly could wait. He sure as heck wasn't going anywhere.

The three weltered in self-pity for awhile, unmoving, before Zell slid onto his stomach and rested his chin on his folded arms, eyes toward the other two. "We're pathetic." Irvine laughed, although it came out a whispered snigger. "It's like nine o'clock and we're too lazy to even move across the room. Talk about sad."

Sinking down into the cushiony goodness that was the mattress of Deling's finest hotel, Irvine cast a glance over towards his friend and their eyes met, equal smirks teased their lips. He tipped back his head and gave in. "Saaaaaaad." Neither could help it, they both cracked up.

"Speak for yourselves." Perturbed at not being in on the joke, Selphie flung herself up to a seated position. "I'm just getting my second wind thingamajig. By ten I'll be ready to pah-tay!" Lifting her arms she attempted a little dance as proof of her infallible energy. But even her voice was weak and her arm movements were shallow.

"See? I'm hip, oh yeah, I'm happening." On a random burst, she leapt off the bed and proceeded to boogie about the room. "A buncha crabby old men can't get me down." She twisted herself in comical contortions in a rendition of a popular dance she'd seen once in a nightclub. But without music and without her usual coordination, she just looked like a mutating jellyeye, on downers. "Look out Deling City! Here I come!"

The guys watched her without comment, her crazy movements serving to increase their own physical exhaustion. Eventually she lowered her arms and stood in one spot by the door.

Irvine craned his neck to address her. "Hey, Selph, now that you're over there. Ya mind tossin' me the menu?"

Her jaw dropped. "Irvine Kinneas! You did that on purpose!" In two bounds she was next to him on the bed, pounding his shoulder. 

"Ow! Hey! I didn't, I swear. Ow!" Picking up his hat, she decided to belt him with that as well. All he could to was crumple into a ball and cover his face.

"You big jerk! The only sad one here is you!" Thwap.

"Zell started it!"

"Don't make excuses!" Thwap.

By the far wall, Zell rolled his eyes and did his best to tune the other two out. Eventually, he got up the energy to roll off the bed and stand. He stretched out muscles that had laid idle for too long and gazed out the window. Immediately he noticed the lack of stars in the sky. The moon itself was only a haze-covered light. One more mark against the city. Working out his calves, he peered at the street below. 

A vehicle pulled up on the curb of the hotel entrance. He could tell right away it was expensive as it's metal glimmered under the streetlights. Probably Estharian. The driver in full uniform stepped out and moved around the hood to open the door for his passenger. One good look at the top of the man's head proved his suspicions. 

"Uh guys?" Their altercation had calmed down enough to pick up his call. "Whatchamacallit's here from the embassy."

Smoothing down his hair, Irvine sat up straighter. "Murphy?"

"That'd be him." Zell squinted down through the glass. "Hold up, another car just pulled behind. It looks like some kind of military dude. He's wearing a uniform." His eyes widened. "Hey, it's that guy we met at Caraway's. Keating or something. He's shaking hands with Murphy."

Irvine and Selphie exchanged narrowed looks and scrambled off the mattress to crowd around the window. She pressed her nose to the cool pane. "Where? I don't see anyone."

"They went inside together." Moving from the window, Zell linked his hands and put up his arms in a full body stretch. He felt a little better. "Should we go down there? It might be important."

"Why not? We wanted food anyway." Irvine gave his mattress one last yearning look before he resigned himself to another couple hours of work. A SeeD's job was never done. "Ready, Selphie?"

"You bet!" She was already unlatching the locks and throwing open the door. "Last one there has'ta buy me dessert!" 

Zell and Irvine followed close behind, though at a steadier gait. 

"Do you believe her?" Zell jabbed a thumb in her direction. "In-sane."

Irvine merely smiled. "That's my girl." 


	12. 25 or 6 to 4

"You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake." ~ Jeannette Rankin

**25 or 6 to 4**

_Waiting for the break of day  
Searching for something to say  
Flashing lights against the sky  
Giving up I close my eyes  
Sitting cross-legged on the floor  
25 or 6 to 4 _ (Chicago)

One and a half hours later, Irvine, Selphie, and Zell were lingering over dessert, using the high back seat of the booth to hide them from view. The targets of their pseudo-stakeout sat across the hotel restaurant at the bar. Several other military types had come and gone after engaging in brief conversations with the two men, along with quite a few suits. They were too far away to pick up on what was said though dared not move closer for fear of being recognised. 

"This is useless." Zell craned his head back surreptitiously to glance over the side of the booth. "Nothing's even going on. For all we know they're yakking' about baseball stats." 

Selphie gave her spoon one last satisfying lick before dropping it into the crystal bowl. Her smile was bright as she rubbed her stomach. "That was yummy," she declared. Then let out a loud, most unfeminine sound that was a shock to both her companions. Briefly, Irvine lifted his eyebrows and shot her a glance, shaking his head in disbelief. Across the table, Zell's forehead crinkled and he made a noise of disgust.

"Geez, Selphie. We're tryin' to keep a low profile here. Ya think they could here that in Winhill?" He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. She just stuck out her tongue and went back to scraping the last of the pudding from the sides of the bowl. If he'd belched like that she'd have freaked out and called him a pig, he thought. Women, he wasn't sure he even wanted to understand them. 

"You've got cake in your teeth, Zell." Finally finished, Selphie pushed the bowl away and sat back, deciding to be helpful. Immediately, he ran his tongue over the aforementioned objects, a slight frown causing his brow to furrow.

"I didn't even have any afters!" He proclaimed on a sudden realisation.

"Made ya look." Her corresponding grin was impish.

Infuriated, Zell was about to retaliate when Irvine cut them both off. "Cool it, guys." With his chin, the other man indicated the recipients of their surveillance. "Looks like Murphy's on the move."

Without more ado, his words spurred the other two back into action. Zell made a show of dropping his knife and as he bent to pick it off the polished floor he took the moment to peer over. Sure enough, Esthar's Defence Minister was sliding from his seat while sharing a hearty laugh with Keating and the bartender. Standing fully, he slapped the Galbadian General on the back in a friendly move. They watched carefully as he lowered his head to murmur something to the seated man.

"I'm dying to know what they're saying!" Selphie wriggled in her seat. "I bet they're planning something really cool. Like an international festival or something." Accustomed to her foibles, neither male dignified that with a response. Irvine's eyes, shadowed by his hat, remained intent.

Both men now stood and shook hands professionally. Zell squinted and was pretty sure he saw something slip between their palms. It was hard to discern what though. From the quick sound Irvine made as he sucked in a breath, he knew his comrade had noticed the same thing. After sharing one more laugh, Waylon Murphy stepped away.

Luckily, Zell caught the movement of his keen gaze in their direction in enough time to pop back up and hide his face in a menu. Once he'd moved past their table, all three SeeDs lowered their menus and followed him to the wide doorway with narrowed eyes. As the man reached the stairs he was accosted by a uniformed member of the staff who subsequently shook his hand and passed him an envelope. Murphy nodded, slipped the item into his uniform jacket, and slid his hands easily, almost merrily into his trouser pockets. His step as he ascended the curing flight was purposeful. 

In unison, three pairs of eyes met around the table. "I'm gonna follow him," decided Selphie. Irvine was already shaking his head. 

"Let Zell do it. We should go say hello to General Keating, it'd look less like a confrontation that way." She wrinkled her nose and pouted over it a bit but kept silent.

Meanwhile, Zell was already standing. "Gotcha. Rendezvous back in our room?" The other male nodded his agreement and he moved away, mind already focussed on the goal. Murphy couldn't have gotten too far yet.

"See if you can knock him out." Expression flushed with the excitement that normally came with a lead in an otherwise dead mission, Selphie tipped her head. "Tie him up and make him spill all his secrets."

Zell's grin was self-assured. He gave her a thumbs-up. "I'll see what I can do." With that, he was off and jogging up the stairway. 

In the main lobby, he managed to catch sight of the pale blue wool of the Esthar officer's dress uniform disappearing through the doors of an elevator. On an oath he rushed over, causing the concierge to look up in alarm as his sneakers squeaked hideously along the marble floor. His efforts were in vain, however, as the gated lift shut two seconds ahead.

He tried to calm his breath and sort his thoughts logically. Impatient, he jammed the button over and over, his vision on the blinking numbers ahead. Five, six, seven. At eight the light paused and Zell stored the number in his memory. His finger continued to press the button in an agitated fashion. Already unimpressed with the teenager's behaviour the man at the desk called over to him, but he merely flashed him a cheeky grin and a thumbs-up as the elevator opened with a little tinkle. 

He wasted precious seconds on the journey upward, his hands and feet squirming at the loss. At this point he knew it was unlikely he'd be able to find his target in the mess of hallways that were the Deling City Hotel. It pinged to a halt and he practically leapt off, pushing the gates aside himself. Hesitating in the red-and-gold decorated corridor, he darted looks left and right. On a whim, he chose right and set off once more. Damn, it felt good to have a solid objective, even if it proved fruitless. His fists clenched and released in rhythm with the quick movements of his feet. Maybe he would give the guy a taste of his skills after all. That is, if he found him.

Rounding a corner, he nearly rammed into a member of the housekeeping staff who'd been pushing a laundry cart. Apologising profusely, he didn't let the delay alter his concentration. His eyes stayed alert, moving back and forth for signs of anyone remotely matching Murphy's description. He turned one more corner, wondering idly how deep into the maze he'd travelled, when he spotted him.

Jumping back round to the other side, he flattened himself against the wall and spied around the edge. His mind raced, not believing his luck. Instinct had served him well. Zell took in the view of his man sliding a card into the lock above the knob and stepping through the brocaded entrance. Not missing a beat, he unplastered his frame, ignoring the funny look a hotel guest directed toward him, and moseyed back down the hall to check out the room number. Eighty-nine. 

He wasn't quite sure now what to do next. Strategy wasn't his strong suit. Should he barge in and demand answers? Or would taking up a vigil outside the door be the better option? Maybe he should just leave and discuss it with the others. What would Squall do? He pondered over it, staring at the gold swirls of the wallpaper. An image flitted through his mind of the staff member he'd more or less trampled in his haste. An idea formed and his lips curved. If he could pull this off, he definitely deserved a rank increase. He took another look at the door, doing his best to memorise its appearance. Setting back out again, he chuckled and imagined what type of T-board he'd buy with his new raise. 

Back at the bar Selphie was doing her best to chat up the Galbadian. "Don't you just _love_ this place?" Starry-eyed she gazed around the room, raking in the whole scene with visible relish. "It's so _romantic_. Don't you think so Irvy?" She spun back round on her stool, eyes transmitting an elfin twinkle. "We should have our wedding party here." Her companion nearly spat out his drink. If his life had been an animated feature his eyes would have bugged several yards from his head and his jaw would've smacked plumb on the bar. 

"Oh, you are engaged? Congratulations." Keating's tone was dry, clearly bored with the conversation. Silver hair slicked back, impeccably dressed in full uniform, golden buttons, gleaming medals and all, he was the depiction of a tough-as-nails, no-nonsense military man. No fuss, no frills. He'd entered the Galbadian Army from a sense of youthful discipline, moved swiftly up the ranks from an even stronger sense of ambition. His shoulders broad, his face firmly lined, he was a man who'd bided his time, accepting each assignment knowing the more experience he gained, the better. Shooting a glance at his heavy watch as he reached for his bourbon, he continued to bide his time.

"Thanks!" With a sidelong glance, Selphie patted Irvine's knee. "We're trying to keep it hush-hush for now. So if you don't mind…" She winked foolishly, one finger near her lips. Wondered if it would be overdoing it to toss in a giggle or two. The general barely flickered his eyes in their direction, however.

"Uh, yeah, that's right." Not quite sure where the female was going with this but having no choice but to play along, Irvine slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her closer. Might as well entertain himself. "Once this here mission's over, we'll announce it to everyone. It's been hard, hidin' all our mad passion." Selphie nearly fell from her perch on the stool into his lap as his grip tightened. He ignored her subsequent glare and muffled squeal. "But my Sefie insisted, not until we're no longer working together. She's so professional." He said this fondly, and nudged her back into her seat, ruffling her hair in a way he knew she disliked. "What can a man do? You married, General?"

"No, that I'm not." For his part, Keating seemed unmindful of their games. He finished off his drink and gestured to the discreet bartender for a final round. Five more minutes and he'd be ready to leave. 

"It's difficult, ain't it? The military life?" Irvine shook his head and pushed his glass across the bar as well with a loud slide against the glossed panels. "I'm thinkin' in a year or so, when we've got enough money, we'll settle down, get me a job in town. Garden just ain't a place to raise children."

"I wouldn't know." The general's golden eyes slid to the entranceway. To the other side of him, Selphie let out a quiet breath of frustration. They weren't getting anything out of him this way.

"Don't you think, sir, that family values are totally gone these days?" She placed her hands in her lap and her fervent gaze on his profile. "It's impossible to feel safe anymore, with all these sorceresses popping up outta nowhere. How are you supposed to bring kids into a world like this? If you ask me, I say we stick 'em all in space and blow 'em up." Finishing her spiel with a light tap on the bar, she bit her lip and prayed he took the bait.

The grooves on his face deepened. He lowered his empty glass once more and lifted a dark, heavy brow. "There are many who agree with you, young lady."

"It's too bad General Caraway doesn't seem to," she prodded him further. If they were going to prove him guilty of conspiring against the other Galbadian with Murphy, he had to give them some kind of ammunition. 

"Hmmm. The general has his own motivations." Another look at his timepiece told him it was safe to depart the hotel. He had some phone calls to make.

"He's not running for president, is he?" Selphie exchanged horrified glances with Irvine. "I mean, no offence, but he's not exactly objective about the sorceress thing, if you know what I mean. I know I don't trust him, no matter what he says."

"You are certainly entitled to your opinion. If you'll excuse me." If he was surprised at her bashing of an important client he didn't reveal any such emotion. Taking his raincoat from where he'd laid it on the bar, Keating stood, briefcase in hand. "I will have to take my leave of you both. Enjoy the rest of your evening in Deling." With a formal nod and without granting them a chance to respond, he turned heel and strode from the restaurant. The Galbadian soldiers present stood straight and saluted as he passed. He nodded to each, more automatically than out of any real graciousness. 

"Well!" Hands on hips, Selphie watched him ascend the staircase. "That was a complete bust, eh Irvy?"

"That depends." Irvine tipped back his hat and pursed his lips, giving her an arch look. "I'm not even sure what you were tryin' to get at."

Brows lowered, Selphie huffed. "What I was _trying_ to do wasto get him to admit something. Anything! Do you think I was being too subtle?"

"Subtle?" He rubbed his chin and considered, a smile forming on his lips. "Ah, no. Not subtle, more like confusing. I couldn't figure if you wanted him to help pick out wedding cakes or sign a petition to lynch Caraway." At that she let out a sound of pure exasperation.

"Oh, what do you know? The man's not gonna give himself up is all. I betcha right now he's calling all his cronies to let them know we're on to them," she declared. "He was merely shocked into fear by my mega brilliant skills of deduction."

"If you say so." Both hands on the bar, Irvine pushed himself back, stretching out his arms. He was too curious not to ask. "What was that bit about the engagement? You telling me something, darlin'?"

She banished his hopes with a succinct "ew" and a delicate wrinkle of her nose. "I was going for yuppie, but half-witted, SeeD. It's all about the image. Don't you know anything?"

Apparently not. Amused more than insulted he let it go at that while his ego was only slightly battered. He hoped Zell was getting more out of Murphy as the night seemed be a complete wash on all levels. 

"From what I've read," she was saying, drumming her hands on the panel. "Keating's leading in the presidential race. How a stiff like that could win over the people is beyond me. His platform is like way out there."

"Whoa," Irvine held up a hand. "He and Caraway are running?"

"Nuh uh, I made that up. Caraway's got no political goals at all. I hear he's supporting the other guy, some business guru. Keating's military all the way. Definitely antidisestablishmentarianism." She said all this with a distracted frown. "Which is crappy if he wins."

"Antidisestablish…." Shaking his head, Irvine cut himself off. There was a reason he'd chosen the mercenary life. "How do you know all this?" He doubted she knew what that meant any more than he did.

"It's in the mission report. Duh!"

Ah, the mission report. Good thing she'd brought it up. "Right. About that. You haven't seen it lately, have you?"

"What do you mean?" She looked at him, puzzled. "I gave it to you on the train this morning, remember? You put it in your coat."

"See, that's what I thought as well, but it's not there." Swinging himself around so he could manoeuvre, he opened his jacket and showed her the empty inside pocket. "I reckon that kid must've taken it."

Her eyes widened. "Should we go look for him?" She could imagine the lecture now. A vision of Cid's disappointed frown flitted through her mind.

"Nah, no point. Let's just head back upstairs. I doubt he'd do anything with it anyway. As long as it doesn't get into the wrong hands, we're safe." 

Zell readjusted the white cap he'd nabbed from housekeeping employee. It covered his hair well enough and the low brim made sure his face couldn't be recognised from a distance. He felt bad about leaving the poor guy unconscious in the closet with his own clothes but he hadn't had much choice. At least he wouldn't be force to roam in his underwear. Decked out in a pressed white uniform, he pushed the laundry cart down the corridor, the few guests that passed barely blinked an eyelid in his direction. The perfect disguise. Patting himself on the back once more, he rolled to a stop outside room number eighty-nine. So far, so good.

Clearing his throat, he lifted his hand to knock. "Uh, housekeeping!" After waiting a few pulses he rapped his knuckles again and called out, louder this time. When he met with silence, he pulled the master key card out of his pocket. He congratulated himself for having the wits to look for one. Something else that would come in very handy during their stay here. With a casual glance both ways down the hall, he was he was alone, and slipped the card into the receiver above the handle, magnetic strip down. It took him a few tries before the green light blinked to life. A twist of the knob, a gentle tapping of the door, and presto! He was in.

The cart moved almost soundlessly over the plush carpet. Moving all the way inside, he closed the door at his back and looked around, nearly whistling. The Deling Hotel certainly knew how to indulge its top clients. The suite was nothing like the cramped room he and the others shared several floors down. It offered a fully furnished living area with deep-seated couches and finely-crafted end-tables. The electronics were streamlined and clearly new, and there was a mini-kitchen, featuring a small round table, a mini-refrigerator and a microwave oven. The curtains by the far balcony were wide open so he was able to take in the view of the city lights from where he stood. Pretty pricey, he guessed. Even his decent salary wouldn't cover spacious digs like these.

Keeping up appearances, he walked further into the room. He caught sight of a computer and several stacks of files laid out on a roll-top desk against the wall. He made a note to check it out after he made sure all was clear. Zell opened a random door and found the closet. Nothing of interest there, really. A couple coats, one looking distinctly feminine with its rounded collar and large buttons. He thought nothing of it, though. He wondered if in the ten minutes he'd been preoccupied, Murphy had come and gone. 

Wheeling further he opened the next door in line and realised his mistake. 

His neck flushed crimson and he did an about-face and smacked into the cart. It was amazing he hadn't been able to hear them until now. Pretty sure he was traumatised for life, he sped out of the room, shutting the door with a light click. Prayed the occupants were too engaged to notice his sudden, and mortifying, intrusion. Well, that answered more than a few questions.

Flustered now and anxious to be far, far away he rushed to the desk across the room and snatched as many folders as he could. From the sounds of things, his presence hadn't disrupted their rhythm so he didn't worry about making too much noise. Lids squeezed tight, he tried to expel such thoughts and sights from his mind's-eye. 

He chucked the papers into the cart - momentarily considered taking the laptop as well but figured that'd be too obvious - gripped the handle, and made for the exit at top speed.

He kept up his pace all the way to the lifts. Reached his own room in less than three minutes. Impervious to his companions' inquiring looks once he'd unlocked the door, he rushed inside, laundry cart and all, plonked down on the nearest bed, and covered his face with a pillow. Only now did he give into the inclination to shudder.

Irvine and Selphie had just begun to search their bags for the missing report when Zell had burst in upon them. Sharing dazed looks, they rose from their crouched positions and went over to the unstable male. Selphie plopped next to him and pocked his shoulder. "What's with the get-up?"

Releasing the pillow, his complexion returned to its normal colour as he quickly related to story. However, when he got to the end, his cheeks began to flame. "I left as fast as I could, just threw it all in there," he motioned toward the handcart, scandalised. 

"Grossness. I mean, he must be at least sixty," Selphie tilted her head and squinted. "Blech. Poor Zell."

"Darn right! I'll never be able to sleep again!" He fell back on the mattress and covered his eyes with his arms before realising he still wore the cap. 

Tongue in cheek, Irvine rocked back on his heels. "Did you get a good look at her?"

"Irvine!" Now it was Selphie's turn to be scandalised. Her head immediately swung over in his direction. "What's the matter with you? You're such a pig!"

"Hey!" Surrendering to her heated onslaught, he did his best to defend himself. "I was wondering if he recognised her is all. As far as I know, Murphy ain't married either."

Zell sighed and sat up. "No, I didn't. But I'm not up on my Galbadian prostitutes." He tossed the hat aside and ran both hands through his flattened hair. Rubbed his scalp.

This time Zell faced Selphie's wrath. "And how did you know she was a prostitute? Maybe she's his girlfriend, ever think of that? Maybe they're in love. Quiet, you," she ordered Irvine when he chuckled. She made a disgusted sound. "Boys are so perverted."

"No, I'm positive she was," Zell affirmed with a vehement nod. "No doubt about it."

"Why's that?" Irvine lifted a brow, his eyes laughing. "I didn't know you were such an expert on the subject." His tone dripped with innuendo. If it were possible, the other male's neck now scorched in a full-body flush. He hadn't meant for it to sound like that. Irvine always knew just where to tease. 

"I'm not! Really, really…Not! You know I don't go in for that kinda…stuff. I swear! It's just…" he hesitated, feeling incredibly awkward. "She had this really fake blonde hair, like really fake, and she was way younger, and she kept calling him mister…" Humiliated, he dropped his eyes to the floor and trailed off. "Never mind."

"Sorry, Zell. Why don't we forget the whole thing for now and start going through these files?" Grin broad, Irvine decided to give the guy a break. "It's gonna take us long enough as it is." He cast a longing look toward his bed and allowed himself one sigh. "Looks like none of us'll be sleeping tonight."

Rinoa didn't give Squall a chance to get comfortable before she began her piece. This time he was going to listen and take her seriously. She was through with playing the understanding and agreeable girlfriend. Like Xu said, it was only getting her trampled on. If he still refused to change his attitude, she was going to act on some of the woman's other advice and find a large stick to beat him with. Repeatedly. No more Rinoa the Doormat. 

"Where've you been? You didn't meet me for breakfast this morning." Okay, what was that? She asked herself and cringed. Ultra-needy and mournful had not been the angle she was going for. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen you since the last time I came to your office. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're avoiding me." Much better, she congratulated herself. Her voice had been firmer, more confident. She crossed her arms and directed him a pointed look.

A few feet away Squall was also doing his best to maintain his objectivity. He couldn't look her in the eye. If he did he'd crack and he couldn't risk it. Not when so much was on the line. All he had to do was get through this, he'd known it was coming hadn't he? If he could just keep his emotions from getting the best of him for the next few minutes. If he could ignore the razor edge that blazed through him every time he heard her speak, every time he smelled her hair, every time he looked into her liquid brown eyes. He'd survive and she would be safe.

The office felt hot and cold at once, the air thick with pressure and then as void as a vacuum at opposite intervals. He focussed on the sailboat. 

"I'm not avoiding you Rinoa, I've been busy. My job takes up a lot of time." He didn't apologise this time, didn't even add a touch of regret to his tone. Kept it cold, devoid of feeling. 

"Your job?" She didn't sound upset or teary as he'd been expecting. Instead her voice rang of anger, and sarcasm. Stunned, he darted a glance toward her face. The creamy porcelain skin of her cheeks glowed pink, her eyes narrowed and sparked with a hard edge. It had been a long time since she'd looked at him like that. "It won't work this time, Squall. The truth is you have no excuse, and you know it. Why don't you just 'fess up and get it over with? I'm a big girl, I can take it."

"There's nothing to confess, Rinoa. We've all been working double overtime to make up for the lost agents. By the time I get off I'm not in the mood for company." There, that should just about do it, he expected. Ice in his veins, the instructor didn't know the half of it. Over the years he'd perfected the art of being an asshole. He supposed he had Almasy to thank. Or not, as the case may be, considering the damage it was currently doing to his system.

"And I'm company? I'd thought I was your girlfriend." This new sarcastic side of her nearly ripped him in long shreds. Had he really driven her this far? "Y'know, I think I've been pretty patient this whole time. I've kept quiet, dealt with that I'd only see you in between missions. But I can't deal with not seeing you at all. I thought we had something, Squall. But if I was wrong, the least you could do is tell me. I'm not going to stay where I'm not wanted." Her eyes remained dry, her voice clear and strong, ringing through his eardrums. She gestured with her hands animatedly as she spoke, chin held high. Then she threw in the clincher. "There are other places I could go." Rinoa left it open-ended, allowing him to fill in the blanks. All he had to do was say the word and she'd be out of Garden forever. Our of his life. And out of harm's way. 

"Like I said before," he began, shifting his weight and turning back to the picture. It was his only salvation. Even he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "I don't have time for your ultimatums right now. Why don't you go shopping in Balamb? I'll see if I have a spot open in my schedule for tomorrow and we'll talk then."

Now her eyes did fill. But not with tears of grief or misery. With rage. Hands fisted at her sides so that her nails dug painful trenches in her palms. She concentrated on that, the physical anguish, better that than the emotional helix wracking her body. Her voice shook dangerously when she spoke and she didn't bother to hold herself in check. "You know what Squall? One of these days you're going to wake up and realise how lucky you had it. I know somewhere deep down inside that miserable heart of yours you love me. Somehow you forgot that. I don't know what's wrong with you or why you're doing this but I'm not going to cling to the past like a damsel in distress. I'm worth way more than this. I hope you're happy, I really do. Because pretty soon you're going to find out how awful it is to be truly alone. And when you do," she had to pause to take a breath before she collapse. "When you do, I'll be in Timber. Enjoy the rest of your life." Saying this she whirled around, unseeing, and dived for the door. 

Squall stood in one spot for a full minute. His mind was blank, like the synapses couldn't quite translate what had just transpired. When they did, the distress was too much to endure. The last picture he had of her whizzed over his vision. Rinoa, hollering at him in passion, unbelievably hurt. He'd done that. And if he let her go, he'd never forgive himself. Everything came tumbling forward in a moment's burst. 

"I can't do it like this!" He reached out, his hand connecting with a rounded paperweight. On a rush of violence and red-hazed anger, he threw back his arm and hurled the ornament against the wall. It crashed dead-centre on the painting of the sailboat, shattering glass, crushing canvas and knocking the frame to the floor. Breathing heavily, he stared at it on the carpet. The acrylic mast torn and the blue ocean covered in debris.

On an oath, he ran to the door, pushed his way through. All he could think of was going after her, falling on his knees and begging her forgiveness for everything he'd ever said. It was all too much.

"It's because of the letters, isn't it?" Xu's strident tone managed to get through the echo in his brain from where she stood near the elevator. He brushed her off.

"Out of my way." Wait a minute, letters? His gaze swiftly pierced the woman's. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw them on your desk last night, it's why you've been checking the mission requests lately before I could." Arms folded, expression solemn, she met his look. "Someone's threatening Garden, and you, personally. That's why you've been trying to scare Rinoa away. Why didn't you tell me? You think this just effects you?" It was an accusation. An unfriendly one.

"Yes, I do." Squall pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and tried to think. "Just get out of my way, Xu. I mean it."

Immediately she stepped back, hands in the air and brows raised. "Knock yourself out." Xu strolled passed him and back over to her desk. She heard the gears of the lift lower as the male made his descent. "Good luck, ace." 

Xu sat back in her chair and decided to submerge her fury in work. She could bank it for a few hours until Cid returned from Esthar. Leaning forward, she snatched up the Almasy file - something else she'd found conveniently lying around where it didn't belong - and paged through it. Speculated how Quistis was doing keeping the arrogant bastard under wraps. As if on cue, the telephone jangled.

She let the folder slide to her lap and reached for the receiver. Cradling it to her ear, she sat back and kicked her feet up on the desk. "Balamb Garden, Xu speaking."

Beneath her feet, the desk swayed and buckled. The crash it made as its legs gave out and plunged successfully blocked out the greeting of the caller. Xu shut her eyes to the disaster she was sure lay out in front of her.

"How quaint."

Seifer exited the hotel bathroom to find Quistis sat on the edge of a bed, swinging her legs back and forth while she spoke on the telephone and watched a late-night talk show on television. His hair still wet from his shower, he rubbed a towel over it as he observed her from the doorway. She had yet to notice him so he was granted free reign. 

She was smiling. And laughing. Not the hysterical kind of laughter she had broken out into that night in Timber, born of strain and anxiety. This was different. She actually sounded happy. Normal. As far back as he could remember Quistis Trepe never acted like an ordinary human being. Stuck-up, bossy, and puritanical, yes, but having a normal conversation and actually enjoying it? It was interesting. At least, that's the reason he gave himself for being so captivated. Easier than admitting it was the smooth, toned legs bared by a skimpy white robe that had caused other interesting ideas to enter his mind. Very dangerous ground.

Quistis laughed again before sensing his presence in the small room. Steam swirled out the bathroom door behind him. She batted an eye in his direction and altered her easy demeanour. "Maybe you can get Nida to help you clean up." There was a pause as she listened then let an appreciative chuckle. "No doubt. But I'd better let you go. I'll call when I reach Balamb tomorrow, I'll be expecting a car." Quistis creased her forehead. "Uh huh, right. I'll be on the lookout. You too." The receiver clicked softly as she hung up, removing Seifer from his daze. "Enjoy your shower?"

It took him a second to realise she was speaking to him. He shrugged. "I guess. You know hotels, all mist."

"You were certainly in there long enough," she commented. Quistis rose to shut off the television then remained standing in one spot, watching him carefully.

"What? Can't a guy clean himself without getting the third degree?" He didn't trust the look in her eyes nor her lack of any real expression. It was unnerving. "You weren't exactly super water efficient yourself. Twenty minutes you were in there, at least."

"You timed me?" She blinked and smiled. "Miss me, Almasy?"

"No, you handcuffed me to the bed, what else was I gonna do?" He would have moved past her, would have ignored that smug little grin, but she was in the way. "I thought Balamb had laws against cruel and unusual punishment."

Quistis snorted and rolled her eyes. She slid her hands into the deep pockets of the terrycloth and leaned a hip against the rickety set of drawers the television balanced on. "And give you prime opportunity to escape? I think not."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Twisting the towel in his hands he imagined snapping her with it. Just once, for fun. That would change her attitude. "I was going to come back. You saw how they drugged me up. Didn't exactly give me a choice."

"Probably several more before I'll believe you. Don't waste your breath, it's not happening."

It was awhile before anything else was said. They continued to stay in their spots, not really looking at each other but not looking away either. It was a test, to see who would crack first. Seifer wasn't giving in. 

"That was Xu on the phone," Quistis was the first to break the silence, air casual. Lifting a hand, she ran her fingers unconsciously through her hair, working out the tangles that resulted from letting it air-dry. "All the preparations are being made for your arrival tomorrow afternoon. We should get there round four or five if we make the ship first thing."

"Whoop-de-do." Was he supposed to care or something. Yay, he was going back to Garden. Let's all throw a fucking party. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. 

"Seifer." His name came out on a sigh. Her eyes were softer now, compassionate. "Cid and Edea, they're doing this to help you. Nothing has to be as bad as you make it seem. Give them a chance." She sighed again, searching his face and coming up empty. It was obvious he didn't want to discuss anything with her, but she couldn't help but feel that she had to try one last time. It wasn't just the Kramers. She wanted to help as well. To give him a second chance. "Give me a chance. I'm not your enemy."

The emotions that ran through him now were too complex, too jumbled to decipher. He didn't know what to feel, how to respond. Anger, guilt, fear, relief, pain. He latched on to the most recognisable one and clung. "You think I care about them, about you? What you're not getting is that I'm an asshole, duchess. That's the way I like it. I don't give a damn if they're feeling sorry for me, if you're feeling guilty about something you had nothing to do with. It ain't my problem. If it don't effect me, I keep out. I handle things my way, or no way. Got that?"

"No, I don't. I don't understand how your way can be defeat." Quistis pushed herself from the dresser. She was yelling back at him without thinking. "You're not a quitter, Almasy. Never once have I seen you just give up, just leave your fate in someone else's hands. I don't get why you're starting now. It's not like you and it pisses me off!"

"Giving up?" He snapped the towel at the wall before throwing it viciously toward the nearest bed. "I'm not giving up. I just don't choose to do things your way, to bullshit and kiss the bloody feet of Garden brass. Why the hell should I? I did nothing wrong!" His voice had risen to match hers, his eyes on fire and his fists white-knuckled. "And I'm glad you're pissed off! Because you piss me off, Quistis! I don't get you at all. I would have killed you! And you can tell yourself I didn't know what I was doing but we both know it's shit. I would have sliced your throat if I could have. But you stand there looking at me like some freaking child you want to make all better. Why? Are you that stupid?"

"Why? Why? I don't know why, Seifer!" She gestured wildly with her hands, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Maybe because you were my student, maybe because we grew up together, maybe because I once saw something inside you I'm not ready to give up on yet! Whatever it is, I can't just sit back and let you do this to yourself." Her hands slapped against his chest. Her voice had calmed slightly with the movement and she took a breath to let some of the anger die. Then took another when she didn't feel immediate results.

"You don't have a choice. By tomorrow, mission's over. You'll go back to your perfect little life and I'll go deal with mine. End of story."

Angling her neck back, she studied his expression. And was stonewalled. Misery pricked at her insides. "Not a chance, I don't give up that easy either you'll find. Perhaps we can find a way that works for both of us."

"I doubt it. I don't like you any more than you like me." Instantly regretting it, he returned her gaze. When had she gotten so close? His eyes travelled from hers to her curved neckline, then over to her shoulder where her robe had slipped, leaving it bare. Logic rallied against it, but he couldn't stop himself. 

Quistis couldn't figure out how or why the air had changed between them, she only knew that it had. She had a sudden need to lighten it. Nervous, she flexed her hands and discovered they still lay on his chest. Yes, lightening would be essential. Dropping them to her sides, she then raised one again but this time to his cheek. She gave it a pat in a way she knew annoyed him. "I don't dislike you, Almasy. It's more of an honest distaste," she teased, shrugging one shoulder. "You can't blame me."

Before she could remove her hand and step aside, he was gripping her wrist in his own. Her eyes narrowed. "Watch it."

"I have been, that's the problem." Confused, her brows met above the bridge of her nose, but he didn't give her a chance to speak. He couldn't say why he did it, it'd certainly never been part of his plans on any scale. Sure she was appealing as all get-out but had so many irritating traits that he'd always managed to resist whatever temptation she might have provided. Not this time. Blame it on the heat of the moment, the tension that demanded release, the scent of her skin, that damned robe, her hair, the way she'd looked at him…Any number of reasons could have made this time different. It didn't stop if from being wrong. Looking at it later, that may have just been an added bonus. 

Seifer pulled her against him. She was too stunned, too shaken herself, to provide much of a resistance. Or any at all. Running her tongue over her lips, she said his name. And before she grasped his intent, his mouth was on hers. 

It was like a fist-to-the-gut, breath swiping blow that sent both their minds reeling. There was no softness to be found here, only violence. But she found herself responding in kind, parting her lips and dragging him closer. She stopped thinking completely when he dove deeper, nipping her tongue. The novelty of that experience was a thrill unto itself. Always she'd been able to separate her intellect to direct and control any event. But now every lapping sensation crashed over her like a tidal wave, and it was all she could do to remain afloat.

What was he doing to her? Her mind raced trying to catch up to her soaring body. She'd kill him for this. Crush him. Destroy him. She bit back only part of a moan. It felt too wicked to be real.

His mouth was hot and hungry, constantly seeking new tastes. His body was hard and unforgiving as his hands that gripped and released her arms in a syncopated rhythm she couldn't quiet adjust to. Strong and impatient, brutal and ruthless was the kiss. The words he muttered were incomprehensible against her mouth. They didn't ring of endearments or compliments. More like threats. 

For the first time she could recall she felt truly delicate. As if he could snap her in two at whim. He was a man who would take what he wanted, where and when it suited him. It should have been frightening, it should have made her tear away and scream at him, but for some reason she found it unbearably arousing. Her head tipped back limply and opened herself for absolute, unquestioning surrender. 

He was drowning in her. The ice had melted around her and he was over his head, too mad to know if he should continue downward or fight for land. The scent, the taste, the texture imprinted themselves in his head. Everything a man could want to touch, to take, to claim as his own. A flash fire exploded around him when her throaty hum pulsed into his blood. He devoured as much as he could as fast as he could in a vicious assault. Perhaps it was her ultimate surrender, her complete relinquishing of control into his half-crazed hands that had him surfacing. On an oath he forced himself back, pushing her away as far as he could. 

Reality had crept its way back in and there was no ignoring it.

Nearly insane herself, Quistis shoved at her hair, stumbling at bit at the sensation of being away from the heat. Her lungs burned with lack of air. Under his mind-numbing attack somewhere along the way she must have forgotten to breathe. She had no clue as to why she'd reacted the way she had. It was disconcerting, horrifying even. But that didn't stop the irrational part of her brain from desperately wanting to give it another shot. She ordered her body back into control. Cool it, Trepe. Just because it's been millennia since someone has touched you that way doesn't mean you should go berserk the next time someone does. He may be undeniably sexy, but he is Seifer Almasy. You hate him. Loathe him. No one disgusts you more. Sweaty palms pressed to her cheeks she waited until her pulse had returned to normal levels before she risked looking at him. 

For the first time, his eyes were open. And they were just as distraught, just as dazed as she knew hers must be. Well, at least they now had one thing in common. Neither had any clue where all that had come from. Quistis decided it would be wiser not to find out just yet. 

"Seifer…"

"Don't, Trepe. Don't say anything right now." His eyes had closed again, though he had yet to blink. "I could kill you for that."

"What?" That had been the last thing she'd expected to hear. Taken aback, she gaped at him. "You're-you're blaming what just happened, on _me_?" The impudence of the man! To suggest she would initiate such an….an…Oh, who was she kidding? He'd had her panting within seconds. Hopeless.

"Who else could be responsible? I didn't ask for this!" He wanted to hurt her, wanted to bruise her, wanted to bring her down to his level for once.

"And _I_ did?" She was furious. "Let me tell you exactly what went on since you appear to have forgotten in a manner of seconds. You wanted me, you wanted all this, and the very idea of that ticks you off. So you're trying to tell yourself I tricked you somehow into showing your weakness. You're pathetic." The insult was uttered on a growl.

"You know, Quistis, you're not as desirable as you seem to think." He threw it at her, disgusted with himself. She was right and he hated her for it. He turned away before recognising there was no where else to go.

"Neither are you, Seifer." For some bizarre reason, she felt hurt burnishing through the rage and wanted to punish him, just as he was punishing her. "Now I have first-hand knowledge."

He raised his hands and gripped both her wrists. Fear snapped, edgy and cold, into her eyes and he shook her. "Of all people you can't tell me you didn't want that. I could've taken you all the way. Don't fool yourself."

"The only fool here is you. Touch me again and you won't have to worry about Balamb." Her voice was quiet but the lines of her face were drawn and her body stiff. She tugged away and he made no effort to hold her further. They stared at each other, sharing looks of mutual loathing before he swore and stepped forward.

"Excuse me, duchess. I dare not offend thy precious honour. Move," he said. "I'm going to bed."

Quistis shifted aside and let him pass, jaw tight. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to her. Forcing herself to gather up whatever traces of dignity she could find, she calmly walked over to their light bags. 

Seifer laid himself out on the bed near the farthest wall. It was old and sagged slightly in the middle but it would do. The quilt beneath him was warmer than the temperature of the room. 

"Are you going to sleep like that? In your clothes?" He opened his eyes to see her standing over him, arms crossed, and schoolmarm attitude back in operation. How he'd ever found her attractive was mystifying. 

"Got a problem with that?"

"No, you're just going to be plenty uncomfortable by morning." She sent him a sunny smile, eyes mocking. "I didn't realise you were so modest. Scared?"

"Hardly." He rolled away so he didn't have to look at her. Not about to fall into the old trap. "It's freezing in here. And not everyone likes to prance around half-naked."

"Suit yourself." If his comment had gotten to her she didn't let it show. Bending over, she snapped one part of the handcuffs to his wrist and then pulled his arm closer to the bed post to latch the other tight. He groaned.

"For Hyne's sake, Trepe. I'm not going anywhere. Fuck."

"Of course you're not. How could you? Unless you take the bed with you." Quistis righted herself then turned to her own bed, sitting and swinging her legs over the side. She crawled under the covers and leaned back against the pillows before she darted a glance back in his direction. His back was still to her but she figured that would change quickly. He couldn't be comfortable with his arm twisted behind him like that. She shrugged. Not her problem. 

"Goodnight, Almasy," she offered out of politeness. He grumbled a reply that she was positive was incredibly uncomplimentary toward herself. Shaking her head, she snapped off the lamp and snuggled down. If she was going to spend hours on a ship with him the next day, she was going to need her sleep. 


End file.
